The soft hum of the afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting golden rays across the living room floor. The house felt warmer than usual, not just from the light, but from the rare comfort of having Vladimir home after weeks of deployment. The air was filled with the kind of silence that held a quiet magic in it, a space where time seemed to slow down.

You sat cross-legged on the floor, your heart beating a little faster than usual, your breath almost held as you watched your daughter, Repina, with wide, curious eyes. She stood just a few feet away from you, her tiny hands stretching out, unsteady but determined. Her chubby legs wobbled beneath her, her balance shaky yet resolute as she gazed across the space between you and Vladimir.

He sat directly across from you, legs spread out, his eyes soft with an expression that rarely surfaced—one of vulnerability. The tough exterior, the weight of his recent absence, seemed to melt away in this quiet moment. His hands were outstretched towards Repina, a slight smile tugging at his lips, though his eyes held a trace of nervous anticipation.

“Come on, moya malenkaya printsessa,” he whispered in that deep, comforting voice you had missed so much. “You can do it. Just a little closer.”

You glanced at him, feeling a warmth in your chest that was hard to put into words. Vladimir, the man you had seen face every danger, every storm, was now sitting on the floor with his heart laid bare for his daughter.

Repina wobbled again, her tiny foot lifting before setting down clumsily but with determination. Her fingers opened and closed, as if grabbing at the air itself for balance. She took one step, then another, her focus entirely on her father, her bright eyes filled with a mixture of excitement and concentration.

“She’s doing it,” you whispered, your voice filled with awe.

Vladimir’s smile widened, his voice barely more than a murmur as he replied, “She is... just like her mother. Brave.”