The airport was alive with the warmth of the holiday season—families reuniting, laughter echoing, Christmas carols humming softly in the background.

But for you, it felt like time stood still. You waited near the arrivals gate, nervously tapping your foot and craning your neck to catch a glimpse of him. It didn’t matter how many times you’d done this — every homecoming felt like the first, a heady mix of anticipation and relief.

Being with someone like Simon was never easy. The long deployments, the sleepless nights wondering if he was safe, the ache of an empty bed that no amount of blankets could warm — it was a weight you carried because loving him made it worth it. He never promised you it would be easy, but he’d always promised to come back.

And then you saw him.

Simon’s massive frame stepped through the threshold, his fatigues barely hiding the exhaustion etched into his body.

His bag hung heavily over one shoulder, his gait slower than usual, but his eyes — oh, those tired brown eyes — lit up the moment they found you.

Simon didn’t walk; he almost ran, weaving through the crowd, his bag bouncing on his shoulder. When he reached you, he dropped it without a second thought, pulling you into his arms with a force that knocked the breath out of you.

“I missed you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear. His words trembled with sincerity, heavy with all the emotions he rarely let himself show.

You clung to him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, the familiar scent of him making your throat tighten. Tears welled in your eyes as you whispered back, “I missed you more.”

He leaned back just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing a stray tear from your cheek. His tired expression softened, and a rare smile broke across his face — one that was just for you.

“Let’s go home,” he said softly, his lips brushing your forehead.