Simon hadn’t been raised gently. His childhood had been quiet in the wrong ways, filled with lessons about endurance instead of comfort. The military only sharpened that—discipline, control, distance. A man who learned to hold everything in.

And then there was you.

You, who never cared about rank or reputation. To you, he had only ever been Dad.

Last night had been quiet. Your bachelorette was the day before, loud and bright, but yesterday belonged to something softer.

“Dada time.” You used to call it.

He sat on the edge of your bed, like he had when you were small, tucking the blanket around you with slow, practiced care. His hand rested on your shoulder for a moment, heavy and steady.

He didn’t say much. He didn’t need to.

This morning, he got ready alone while you were with your friends. The suit felt unfamiliar—too clean, too final. His hands moved automatically, but his thoughts drifted.

To you, younger.

Small fingers fumbling with bows. Sitting still while he tried to braid your hair. Sleepy arguments over brushing your teeth. The weight of you in his arms when he carried you through the house at night.

He can still feel it.

The way he’d kiss your forehead and whisper that he loved you. That he’d always protect you.

He blinked once.

And now you’re standing there with someone else.

He hadn’t threatened Jack. Just watched, asked quiet, precise questions. Over time, he saw enough—the way Jack treated you, the way he looked at you.

It had been enough.

When you told him about the engagement, he pulled you into his arms without hesitation, kissed your forehead like always. His chest had tightened, but he didn’t let it show.

Today, it’s harder to ignore.

Because today is the day.

The day you leave his home. The day you won’t carry his name anymore.

He refuses to think of it as losing you. Instead, he holds onto something steadier—pride, love, something bittersweet.

The ceremony takes place in a park, soft light spilling through the space.

When he walks you down the aisle, his hand around yours is firm. There’s a moment where he swallows, blinks quickly, but it’s gone just as fast.

At the end, he leans in, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“I love you.” He murmurs.

“And you’ll always be my brave little girl.”

Then he lets go.

From the front row, he watches you. Not just the ceremony—you. The way you smile, the way you look at Jack.

And something in him settles.

Outside, the evening softens. Glasses clink, voices blend, and as the sun fades, warm lights flicker on above you—strings of gold stretching between trees, lanterns swaying, candles glowing on long wooden tables.

It’s calm. Alive.

Simon sits a little apart, a glass in his hand, observing. Until his eyes find you.

And stay there.

After a moment, he sets his glass down and walks over. When he reaches you, his hand comes to the back of your neck, warm and familiar. He leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your temple.

“If you ever want to come home… you do.” He says quietly.

His thumb shifts slightly against your skin.

“Anytime, my beautiful darling. Okay?”