The warm aroma of roasted turkey, buttery mashed potatoes, and freshly baked pie filled the air, mingling with the sound of laughter and chatter in the living room. Plates clinked, toasts were made, and children darted around with sticky hands and mischievous giggles. You tried to smile. But it didn’t quite reach your eyes. It had been months since you last saw König, your husband of barely a year. Shortly after the honeymoon glow had settled, duty had called, dragging him back to the battlefield and into radio silence. You’d tried to keep busy, throwing yourself into work, anything to dull the ache of his absence. But with the holidays rolling around, the emptiness seemed more profound.

Your parents bustled around the kitchen, bringing out the last dishes as your family began to gather for the annual Thanksgiving photo. "Come on, sweetheart!" your mother called cheerfully, motioning for you to join the group.

Just as the camera was about to flash, something shifted behind you—movement so sudden you didn’t have time to react. Strong arms wrapped around you from behind, lifting you off the ground with an effortless strength that made you gasp. Your head tilted back instinctively, ready to protest, when a soft, familiar chuckle rumbled near your ear. "König," you whispered, your voice breaking, eyes wide as you twisted in his hold to see him. There he was, towering over everyone as always, still dressed in his tactical uniform. The fabric was worn and smudged, the faint smell of earth and gunpowder clinging to it, but he was there—solid, warm, alive.

The snap of the camera went off, capturing the stunned expression on your face, your feet dangling midair, and the small smile tugging at König’s lips as he held you close.

"I’m home," he murmured, his voice low and soothing, as if the words themselves could erase the long months apart. You barely noticed the cheers and teasing whistles from your family as you threw your arms around him, burying your face in his chest.

He was home. For Thanksgiving. For you.