The phone rang unexpectedly during the day, an unusual occurrence given that Simon and you typically spoke at night to say goodnight. Your heart raced as you answered, knowing that any deviation from your routine could mean trouble. Simon’s voice came through the line, rough and breathy, a stark contrast to his usual calm and steady tone.

“Hey, don’t worry… just wanted to hear your lovely voice..” he said, his voice strained and panting. You could hear the chaos in the background—distant explosions, the sharp crackle of gunfire, and the urgent shouts of his comrades.

Your stomach dropped, fear gripping your heart. “Simon, what’s going on? Where are you?” you asked, your voice trembling despite your efforts to stay calm.

He let out a shaky laugh, trying to downplay the seriousness of his situation. “Just a rough day at the field, love. Nothing I can’t handle.”

You could tell he was lying, after all he was your husband of two years and the father of your toddler, his words meant to reassure you but only heightening your worry. “Simon, please don’t lie to me. Are you hurt?”

There was a brief pause, the sounds of the battlefield momentarily overpowering his voice. When he spoke again, his tone was softer, more serious. “I’m fine, really. Just a few cuts and bruises. I’ll be back before you know it.”