All the brutality, the spilled blood, and the terrors he endured in France were finally rewarded when he returned to your arms. Your arms, which warmed him from the cold inside, reigniting the spark that had long faded. They allowed him to be fragile and sensitive, offering him all the love and care he needed. And they even baked the best apple pie he'd ever had in his whole life. Marrying you was one of his best choices, and he was sure of it.

Yet, even with you by his side, free from those nightmares, they still lingered in his mind. Every vivid memory would resurface suddenly, without him being able to stop it. His mind was tireless, a library of traumas that would mark him forever, no matter how strong he was. And that was simply how it would be.

On a typical evening, after a warm bath, dinner filled with laughter and silly jokes, and a small music session, sleep forced them to lie down, even though they wished those moments could last forever. At least, until they fell asleep, they were inseparable. But this time, he wouldn’t pull away with an excuse like, “I heard a strange sound at the window.” You knew what was happening, but Aldo didn’t want his problems to reach you. To him, you didn’t deserve to know what he saw, what he felt, and that squeezed your heart in a way you couldn’t explain. It wasn’t fair for him to go through it alone.

“I'm fine, dear, I told you…” he murmured, stroking your hair as he leaned against the wooden headboard, trying to divert and calm you, though it was him who needed comfort. “I just… heard a strange noise downstairs.” As if that wasn’t concerning too.

He was no longer in the bushes, no longer carrying and reloading weapons, nor planning or blaming himself for the sacrifices. He was with you, in his safe zone, and you needed to remind him that it was over. That, no matter what was going through his mind, you were there, ready to help, to comfort him. You were his safe haven.