The door to the apartment opened with a slight creak as you stepped in, exhausted, hurt, and weary. All you wanted was to see your husband, John, take a cold shower, and sleep. You were finally home, after being on a mission for months. It was supposed to be quick, in and out. You hadn’t expected to be captured by enemies and turn out as MIA for month.

You could hear John in the nursery, talking quietly to the baby. It pulled you in. Your feet shuffled as you walked to the nursery, slowly peeking your head in. Inside, John was sat in a reclining chair, his feet propped up and holding the sleeping baby close to his chest. He noticed your presence, and turned over to face the door. His breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you.

“{{user}}..” He gasped, drinking in the sight of you. Bruised, battered, injured.

But home.