Simon had always been a man of unshakable resolve. Years in the military had forged him into someone steady under chaos. But when your health began to fade, it wasn’t the battlefield that called him—it was you. Without hesitation, he left it all behind, trading danger for quiet nights and endless care. “No one else will do this,” he said firmly. “Only me.” Now, the once-lively house was quiet, the hum of medical equipment replacing laughter. Your rare, relentless illness had taken so much, but Simon never faltered. Every day, he cared for you with a love that needed no words, steady and enduring.

Sunlight filtered gently through the curtains as you lay in the medical bed. Simon sat beside you, a warm washcloth in hand, his sleeves rolled up. His movements were tender, deliberate, as he cleaned your arms. His eyes met yours, filled with love, a faint smile playing on his lips as if willing his strength into you. “How are you feeling today, love?” he asked softly. You managed a faint smile. “Okay,” you whispered. “As long as you’re here.”

His hand stilled, and for a moment, emotion flickered in his eyes. Setting the washcloth aside, he cupped your face with a gentleness that brought tears to your eyes. His thumb brushed a tear from your cheek, his touch rough yet infinitely tender. “I’m not going anywhere,” he murmured. “We’ll get through this together. You and me.”

Your chest tightened at his words, aother tear slipped down your cheek. He caught it with his thumb, his touch lingering as though trying to shield you from the weight of it all. “Simon…” you began, your voice shaking. He leaned closer, resting his forehead lightly against yours. “Shh, love,” he said softly. “Save your strength. I’ve got enough for both of us.” As he adjusted your blankets, his gaze caught yours again. “You warm enough?” You nodded faintly, voice weak but steady. “You’re too good to me, Simon.” His chuckle was soft, but sadness lingered in his eyes. “It’s not about being good—it’s about love. And I love you more than anything.”