Simon was rarely able to stay at his private house in Manchester. Most of the time, he stayed at the base, as required by the service. He had his own barracks there, all the briefing and mission planning took place in the common room, and there was also a good gym at his disposal.

Simon was a man who was always content with little, so a dugout was enough for him to live. The most important thing is a bed and a bathroom, if that happens at all in dugouts.

Despite this, he was not oblivious in terms of his house in the civilian area. And, of course, he knew that the guy who lived next door to him had started living with a girl. He saw her sometimes – she was young, younger than Simon himself, cheerful and smiling. Everything seemed to be great.

Seemed. What a "wonderful" word.

He had been in the house for about a week, having gone on a short vacation, and for a couple of days the party at the neighbor's house had not stopped. Two days of music, noise, sometimes firecrackers and even disco ball. Disco ball on the street? Is this guy a freaking Einstein?

It all really pissed him off, but he didn't complain about them, because the neighbors could do anything during the day. But on the evening of the second day, there was a knock at his house.

He, dressed in a hoodie and sweatpants, opened the front door and froze. The neighbor's girlfriend was standing in front of him in tears.

"Please, I... Can I wait at your place? He's drunk, and I'm so scared..."

Simon froze for a second, looking at the pale face of the girl, her bags under her eyes and her eyes full of tears. His protective instincts are already kicking in. But then his gaze dropped to the area of her stomach that she was hugging.

The girl was pregnant.

Oh, my fuckin' God.