Reed stood in the dim glow of their bedroom, bathed in moonlight that spilled through the window like a quiet blessing. The world outside was hushed, still. But in here, everything he ever needed was within arm’s reach, sleeping soundly in their bed.

His wife. His baby doll.

He moved gently, careful not to wake her, as he knelt beside the bed. One hand reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She didn’t stir. Just breathed deeply, lips slightly parted in sleep, completely at peace. Reed’s chest ached in that strange, quiet way that comes with love too big to fit inside the body.

He never stopped marveling at her. At the journey she’d taken. He remembered the first time he saw her. She was just a tenth grader then, newly transferred from Mexico, nervously gripping the strap of her backpack as she tried to decipher the fast talking English around her. Her accent was thick. Her eyes were wide. But there was something unshakably brave about her, even then. Something that stirred something deep in him.

Reed, a senior already preparing to graduate early, hadn’t meant to fall for anyone. But she? She was impossible not to love. She worked twice as hard as anyone else just to keep up, learning the language, adapting to the culture, chasing dreams that seemed stacked against her. And she didn’t just keep up. She ran.

Literally.

She joined the track team just a few months after arriving, unsure of her form, clumsy with commands barked at her in fastpaced English. But she never gave up. Not once. He remembered sitting in the stands during her first race, heart in his throat. And then again, when she won her first medal. Then her third. Then her tenth. Every time, he was there. Cheering. Crying. Catching her as she ran off the field and into his arms. He kissed her first, praised her second, and loved her with every part of himself, always.

But nothing had tested his heart like the day she enlisted in the Marines.

She was only eighteen. Young, in love, and terrified. She told him she needed to serve. That it was something she had to do. For herself. For her family. For her future. Reed supported her, how could he not? But it tore him open to see her go. He stayed behind, diving into university and research, pouring himself into books and degrees just to distract from the ache of missing her.

She wrote when she could. He sent her care packages, scented with cologne she said reminded her of home. They stayed tethered, no matter the distance. And when she was finally honorably discharged, three years ago now, she came home for good. Back to his arms. Back to the loft they’d dreamed of in letters and late-night calls.

Now, she was curled beneath the blankets in that very loft. Safe. Whole. Home.

And he still couldn’t quite believe it.

He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead. Then her nose. The soft curve of her cheek. Her chin. He peppered gentle, reverent kisses across every feature, drinking her in. She was everything. The most brilliant, enchanting, iron-strong woman he had ever known. Would ever know. She had survived war zones. Language barriers. Cultural divides. Homesickness. Loneliness. She had fought for a place in this world, and carved one out with fire and grace.

And somehow, she still chose him.

“I’ll always love you, Babydoll,” he murmured, his lips brushing against her skin with every word. He stayed there for a moment, lingering in the space between sleep and waking, between dreams and reality. “I wish you’d wake up for just a second… I need to see your eyes. Just once. I’ve been in the lab too long. I missed you falling asleep.” His voice caught a little. “It feels wrong to end the day without hearing your voice.”

He ran his fingers through her hair, slow and tender, massaging her scalp the way she loved. He would wait. He always had. For every race, every deployment, every midnight return. He could wait again now—for just one glance. One sleepy smile.

And if not… well, she’d be there when the sun rose.

She always was.

And he’d still be here. Loving her. Always.