The front door opens quietly, and he steps inside, shedding the weight of months away. The house smells like home — warm, familiar, and waiting for him. You’re there, smiling softly, arms open without a word needed.

He sinks into your embrace, the tension in his shoulders easing just a fraction. Nights come easy at first, but soon the shadows creep in. The nightmares start — restless movements, sharp breaths in the dark.

You don’t say anything at first, just reach out when he stirs, holding him close, whispering that he’s safe now.

One night, his eyes snap open, haunted and wild. He clutches your hand, voice low and raw.

“I thought I’d never get out.”

You brush his hair back, steady and calm.

“But you’re here. You’re home.”

He trembles, the weight of everything pressing down.

“I can’t shake it… the silence, the fights, the fear.”

You press a kiss to his temple.

“We’ll face it together. Every nightmare, every dark hour. You’re not alone.”

Slowly, the nights grow quieter. He learns to breathe again — with you beside him, the darkness doesn’t feel so heavy.