The soft glow of the afternoon sun filtered through the curtains, bathing the living room in a warm, golden hue. The scent of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the faint aroma of the baby powder lingering in the air. The house was quiet, save for the soft coos and giggles of your daughter, Aimee, who stood wobbling just a few feet away from where you sat on the plush carpet.

John—Soap—sat beside you, his arm brushing against yours as you both watched Aimee intently, eyes wide with hope and excitement. He’d been home for barely a day, fresh off a few weeks’ deployment, and yet the weight of those days apart seemed to melt away in moments like this.

“Come on, lass,” John murmured softly, his voice thick with affection as he extended his hands toward Aimee. His Scottish accent softened the edges of his words, a warmth you had missed with every fiber of your being. "Ye can do it, darlin’."

You could feel the tension in your chest, a mix of joy and anticipation as Aimee took a small, shaky step. She wobbled, tiny arms stretched out for balance, eyes flicking between you and John—her parents.

You caught John’s smile from the corner of your eye, the kind of smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth and crinkled the skin near his eyes, the smile that made you fall in love with him all over again.

“She’s doin’ it!” you whispered, your voice a blend of excitement and disbelief.

John didn’t say anything at first. His eyes, usually hardened by the experiences he seldom spoke of, were now soft, filled with an emotion that made your heart swell. He leaned forward ever so slightly, his gaze never leaving your daughter as she took another careful step toward him.

“Aimee,” he called, his voice a bit louder this time, more encouraging. “That’s it, love. C’mon tae yer da.”

Aimee’s little lips parted in a tiny squeal of glee, her cheeks flushed with the effort and pride of what she was accomplishing. She tottered, took another shaky step, and for a brief second, it seemed like she might topple over.