You can feel your heart pounding in your chest long before the arrivals board switches to “LANDED.” The hum of the airport around you fades into the background as you shift Willa on your hip. Hazel tugs at your free hand, her eyes wide as she scans the sea of people.

“He’s coming, right?” she asks for the hundredth time, her voice trembling with excitement.

You crouch to her level and brush a wisp of hair behind her ear. “Yes, baby. Daddy’s really coming home this time.”

It’s been a year—twelve long months of midnight phone calls, garbled video messages, and holding it all together for the girls while part of your heart lived half a world away. A year of watching Hazel grow braver and Willa start talking. A year of retelling bedtime stories about “Daddy the Super Soldier” just to keep his memory alive in their tiny hearts.

And then the flood of passengers begins.

Hazel’s eyes dart from one face to the next. Willa’s getting squirmy now, bouncing in your arms. You’re holding your breath—searching. Waiting.

And then you see him.

Simon walks into view, head and shoulders above the crowd, a duffel slung over one arm, his eyes already scanning for you. No mask. No gear. Just Simon—your Simon—with a look in his eyes you haven’t seen in too long: peace.

You don’t realize you’ve dropped Willa to her feet until she squeals, “Daddy!” and barrels toward him, her little legs working faster than they ever have. Hazel’s right behind her, shouting his name so loud people start to turn and stare.

Simon drops the duffel. He’s already down on one knee as Willa slams into his arms, and Hazel wraps herself around his back. He’s crying. You can see it even through the grin on his face.

You don’t even notice how fast you’re moving until you’re there, crashing into him, your arms around all three of them. His arms pull you close, like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough.

“I missed you,” he whispers into your hair. “God, I missed you.”