“Daddy!” Emily, your daughter, immediately called out as you opened the car door, sprinting towards her father, crouched down and waiting with his arms open for her on the doorway. He picked her up, effortlessly, as you slung the strap of her backpack over your shoulder.

“Need help with that, love?” Simon asked as you walked over, immediately biting his tongue at the slip; two years after the divorce, and he still hadn’t grown out of that habit yet.

“No.” Your response was curt and snappy, purposeful strides carrying you past the threshold, so you could drop the backpack on the couch. Simon gently put Emily down, murmuring something along the lines of “go play, baby” to her.

“Everything alright?” He asked in a low and quiet voice, gingerly making his way towards you, brows furrowed in a concerned expression. “Want me to make you some tea?”

This was Simon’s weekend with Emily, a suitable arrangement for him, since he wasn’t home that much anyway; but whenever he was back, he wanted to spend every second with his daughter.

You were ready to snap, but gave up on it. “Yes,” you said as your shoulders slumped. “I’d like a cup of tea, Simon, thank you.”

“What’s wrong?” He’d eventually asked, leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I know you get snappy sometimes, love,” he tried to tease, but his faint smirk faded quickly. “But I know when something’s up.” You sighed, sinking into the chair. “It’s…complicated,” you said, shaking your head. “Last night Jackson and I had a small disagreement.”

Simon’s shoulders tensed. “And he smashed a plate on the ground. He apologised profusely, and cleaned up right after,” You shrugged. “Just been a little shaken up, that’s all.”

You couldn’t even get your next words out as Simon crossed the room, fetching his jacket. “You watch Emily.” He simply said, a dangerous edge to his voice.

“Where do you think you’re going?” You asked, jumping out of your seat. But he was already at the door, his car keys in hand.

“Just gonna have a little chat with the lad, love."