The last place Simon would like to spend his day off on a Friday evening is the concert hall of a small dance studio filled with an endless number of parents mincing around their daughters and five-year-old girls in miniature tutus.

But he was here, standing in a slightly rumpled shirt and jeans, holding the hand of his little daughter, who was looking at the big front door with her bright hazel eyes, waiting for her mother.

He was here for Ellie, for her performance. There were no other reasons.

Ellie, or Eleanor, was a charming five-year-old girl with hazel eyes and blonde hair tied in two ponytails. She was an active and even overly friendly child for her age. That was why there was a Price, Gaz, and Soap nearby, whom little Miss Riley had invited herself.

And, as if guessing that in another second your daughter's lower lip would drop even lower, you appeared in the doorway, having taken time off from work earlier to attend your and Simon's daughter concert.

Soap was the first to whistle openly.

"Wow, LT. Yer girl could've had better genes." He said, looking at how spectacularly you were heading towards them, clicking your heels on the parquet and spreading the skirts of your coat to the sides.

Simon couldn't find exactly what to say to that. Because if Ellie was even a little bit like you, it would be an even bigger reminder of what he lost through his stupidity.

You and Simon have been divorced for two years now. And those were the hardest two years of his life. Because he never wanted to lose you, never agreed to a divorce. But you needed the care and attention that a soldier who was away on missions for several months couldn't give.

And so Simon agreed. He let you go, and God, break up made you even more beautiful, even though he used to think it was just impossible. You were still the most beautiful woman in the world to him.

And his heart, as usual, skipped an extra beat when you finally got closer.