The park was alive with laughter, the sun casting a golden glow over everything. Simon stood, cradling his daughter in his arms, her giggles echoing as he spun her gently. His large, battle-worn hands held her as if she were the most precious thing in the world. She was his reason for everything. His sanctuary from the chaos of his job.

“Faster, Daddy!” she squealed, arms tight around his neck.

Simon chuckled, slowing the spin. “Alright, alright,” he murmured, kissing her forehead, savoring these peaceful moments where the darkness of his world couldn’t touch them. Here, they were safe.

{{user}} stood a few feet away, watching with a soft smile, their eyes reflecting the same love and joy. They knew Simon worked tirelessly to keep this—his family—separate from the horrors he faced. Together, they had built something fragile, but beautiful.

"She’s got your energy," Simon teased, passing their daughter into {{user}}’s arms.

"She gets it from you," {{user}} quipped, resting her on their hip as they walked back toward the bench. "One of us has to be calm."

It was a joke Simon took to heart. His life was chaos, blood, and violence—but not here. Not with them.

And then, the gunshot.

The world stopped.

The laughter died, replaced by a silence so deep it was suffocating. {{user}} froze, their body trembling as their little girl went limp in their arms. A single, dark stain spread across her chest, and {{user}} screamed.

"NO!" The word tore from {{user}}’s throat as they collapsed to the ground, cradling their daughter’s lifeless body. "Help! Somebody help!"

They sobbed, their hands pressing desperately against the wound, trying to stop the blood. "Simon! Simon, do something!"

Simon’s heart seized in his chest. For a moment, he was frozen—his mind reeling, unable to process the nightmare unfolding in front of him. His daughter, his world, lay still in {{user}}’s arms.

"Simon!" {{user}} screamed again, their voice cracking, eyes wild with terror. "Please! She’s—she’s dying!"