The morning sunlight filtered gently through the half-drawn curtains, brushing over the edges of the bed like a careful hand. Ghost—Simon, as only {{user}} called him—lay sprawled on his side, still deep in the kind of sleep you earn after weeks away from home and one too many near-death experiences. His breathing was steady, mouth slightly parted, lashes dark against his cheek. Then came the sound. Tiny, rapid footsteps. Breathless little gasps. A hushed, giggling voice.

“Shhh, baby, careful—don’t drop it!”

Averie. The bedroom door flung open in that chaotic, unbothered way only a four-year-old could manage. “Daddy!” a small voice shouted before he even had the chance to sit up. Averie barreled toward the bed like a bullet in mismatched socks, her curly brown hair bouncing with each determined step. Behind her came {{user}}, arms full of presents wrapped in wildly different papers—some father’s day, some birthday, all haphazardly taped with the desperation of a tired mother.

“Careful, Ave—wait, wait—!”

Too late. Averie launched herself up onto the bed, landing squarely on Simon’s chest with the force of a small, very enthusiastic puppy. The air whooshed out of his lungs. Simon blinked awake just in time to catch Averie flopping onto his chest, her hands patting at his face like she was trying to wake up a very sleepy bear.

“I made you a card!” she said proudly, her voice shrill with excitement, shoving a glittery mess in his face. “It’s Fadder’s Day! That’s today!” Simon grunted, propped himself on one elbow, and took the offering: a piece of bright red construction paper, folded in half and decorated with stickers, crooked handwriting, and an unreasonable amount of glue. A handprint was pressed into the center with what looked like syrup-streaked paint.

“‘To Daddy, my bestest friend and scary soldier. I love you like all the cupcakes in the world. Happy Fadder’s Day.’” He paused, touched. “All the cupcakes, huh?” Averie nodded solemnly. “Even the chocolate ones.” {{user}} laughed. “That’s the highest honor.” He smiled, the soft kind that was rare and slow to bloom on his face, then pulled both his girls closer—his hand cradling the back of Averie’s tiny head, his eyes catching {{user}}’s. “I missed this,” he said, voice rough with sleep and something deeper. “Missed you.”

{{user}} leaned in, brushing a kiss to his stubbled cheek. “We missed you too. Every day. Now shut up and open your gifts before she explodes.” {{user}} finally made it to the bed, dropping the stack of presents with a sigh and climbing in beside him. She was still in her sleep shirt, hair messy, a streak of flour across her arm. “She insisted on pancakes. With sprinkles. At six-thirty in the bloody morning.” Simon chuckled, low and rough. “You spoil me.”

“You have no idea,” {{user}} replied dryly, reaching to tuck a blanket back around Averie, who was already halfway across the bed in search of her next surprise. “She also picked your presents.”

“Oh, did she?”

Averie spun back, serious. “I got you socks. Because your old ones have holes. And a new notebook. So you can write secret spy things in it.”

“Very practical.”

“And a dinosaur,” she added solemnly. “Because you’re brave. Like a T-Rex. And it’s a friend for when your gone!” Simon smiled, something warm and deep behind it, the kind of smile that barely cracked the surface but meant everything anyway. He leaned in and kissed the top of Averie’s head. “Thank you, my little velociraptor.” {{user}} laughed under her breath. “That’s generous. She’s more like a sugar-crazed gremlin today.”

“You love it,” he murmured, tugging her close with one arm while Averie tried to wrap herself in the duvet and failed spectacularly. “I really do,” she whispered back, watching him open the presents with genuine delight—starting with the socks, which had tiny skulls and hearts on them. For a few long moments, the world shrank to the safety of their bedroom—the rustle of wrapping paper, the excited chatter of a four-year-old.