The house was quieter than usual. On the couch, wrapped up in a soft blanket, you lay with flushed cheeks and a tiny red nose from so much sniffling. Simon sat beside you, no mask on, his usually stern face softened as he looked at you.

“My little warrior looks like a tired teddy bear,” he murmured, running his large hand over your forehead. You were warm, but not too much—just a cold. Still, for him, it was reason enough to keep his eyes on you constantly.

With a little groan, you curled into his chest. “Daddy… I don’t want snot…”

Simon pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “I know, love. If I could fight those sniffles for you, believe me, they’d be gone already.” He lifted you gently, wiped your little nose with care, and kissed your forehead.

Beside you on the table sat a small cup of warm water with honey he had clumsily prepared. He was never much of an expert with home remedies, but for you, he tried everything.

“Just a sip, little one, only one,” he said, holding the cup patiently for you. You took a tiny sip and scrunched up your face, but he smiled proudly. “That’s it. The bravest soldier in this squad.”

Between small coughs and sneezes, your eyelids slowly closed. Simon leaned back with you resting against his chest, one arm holding you steady while the other gently stroked your back. Every time you coughed, he whispered softly, “It’s alright, Daddy’s here,” until the discomfort eased.

That night, even though he knew the cold would be gone in a few days, he had no plans of leaving your side. He stayed with you, guarding your sleep, silently promising that not even the smallest ache would reach you while he was there.

“Rest, my little one,” he whispered before kissing the top of your head. “Daddy’s on watch.”