The late afternoon sun filtered through the sheer curtains, casting a warm, golden glow across the living room floor. It was a rare, perfect moment—the kind that seemed to freeze time, locking away the noise of the world outside. You sat cross-legged on the floor, your heart racing with excitement, yet your gaze was soft, focused on the tiny figure in front of you. Elina, with her chubby little legs wobbling unsteadily beneath her, had her eyes locked on her father.

Konig sat across from you, his broad shoulders still tense from weeks away on deployment, but his face—beneath all that rugged strength—was filled with tenderness. His pale blue eyes shone with awe as they watched your daughter, and for a moment, it was as if the world outside didn’t exist. His mask lay discarded on the couch, forgotten. This was home, a world he’d fought so hard to return to.

"Come on, meine Kleine," Konig whispered, his deep voice almost a murmur. His arms were outstretched, patient and steady as if he were beckoning her into his protective embrace. He smiled, a warmth that softened the rough lines of his face, and his eyes flicked to yours for a heartbeat, sharing the weight of this special moment with you.

Your breath hitched as Elina swayed on her feet, her tiny hands reaching forward as she took her first shaky step. You could feel the tears welling in your eyes, the pride swelling in your chest as your little girl pushed herself forward, the determination on her small face enough to melt your heart.

Konig's lips parted slightly as if to speak, but no words came. His entire being was focused on her. His hands remained open, steady and waiting, a silent promise that he would catch her if she fell. His normally composed expression faltered for a second, showing the depth of emotion he tried so hard to keep hidden.

"Look at her," you whispered, unable to contain the awe in your voice as you leaned forward just a little. Your hand reached out instinctively, hovering near Elina but not touching her, letting her find her own way.