The house was already quiet when the front door creaked softly, and there was the sound of soft, but clearly distinguishable footsteps on the floor. Simon returned home after a hard shift.

You peeked out of the kitchen, greeting him with a warm smile, and then approached him. He took off his shoes, sighing wearily. This time he was gone for twelve hours. You knew that it had been hard for him lately because a new set of soldiers had arrived, and as a Lieutenant he had to train new recruits. Therefore, as soon as he looked at you, he reached down to meet you halfway as you raised your head for a welcoming kiss.

"Tired?"

"Hmm." He nodded, pulling away.

It wasn't easy for both of you, you both worked. Simon left for the base early in the morning, and was the breadwinner in the family, while you stayed at home with your two children, four‐year-old Alex and six-month-old Sophie.

This was not a forced measure, but rather a compromise that you came to. You didn't want to hire a babysitter and preferred to personally monitor them during the day. Simon was the one who brought money into the house.

Traditional? Maybe. But it was something that worked for both of you.

You took the bag with the already empty lunch box from his hand. You cooked lunch for him at work, and you often heard the envy of his colleagues, who had to buy instant ramen or eat quickly in fast food restaurants. At times like this, you couldn't help but smile, knowing that Simon was proud that you were the one who cooked for him and made sure he was fed.

And he did a lot for you in return. Yesterday, he informed me that he has booked a whole spa day for you. A hair appointment, manicure, and even a massage. All this was accompanied by the phrase "and I remember that ya wanted to eat at yer favorite place, so stop there too."

Caring husband, that's who he was. Although you were sure that his colleagues would hardly have believed it.