Simon’s thoughts were in scrambles, raging a never ending war in his mind, never letting him rest — the news of your pregnancy still as fresh as the day you announced it.

The vow he’d taken during your wedding lived rent free in his brain, not sure if he could live up to the promise he made to himself. To you.

All his life, Simon was conditioned to be that unfeeling, distant man he was. And to now have a baby on the way? A delicate, harmless creature?

His hands only knew how to cause suffering, his skin rough and calloused — a stark contrast to that of a small child’s.

Late in the night, Simon sits in the kitchen, a half empty glass of bourbon by his side as he smoked to calm his raging nerves.

And as his gaze fell to the countertop, an ultrasound picture stared back at him. “Ha, maybe I should’ve gone to therapy.. Fuck.” He groaned, rubbing his temples in mild annoyance.

With no idea of what to do, Simon coped in the only way he knew how — pulling away from you, distancing himself from the one he loves most to gather his thoughts and feelings into a messy pile.

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught your figure in the darkness, alongside the gentle padding sound of your footsteps as you walked down the stairs.

Taking a drag, he exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Go back to bed, {{user}}. I’ll join you soon.” He dismissed, barely sparing you a glance.