Simon had returned from the mission a changed man. The blast that robbed him of his sight had left more than physical scars. It left him haunted, withdrawn, and struggling to adjust to a world now shrouded in darkness. While others drifted away, unsure how to handle the weight of his trauma, you stayed. You became his anchor, guiding him through the storm when everyone else had abandoned ship.

The days were long and filled with challenges, but Simon was slowly finding his footing again, thanks to your patience and unwavering presence. He relied on you more than he ever admitted, trusting you in ways he hadn’t trusted anyone in years. You were his light in the darkness.

One evening, you pushed open the door to your shared quarters, the familiar creak announcing your arrival. Simon, sitting in the armchair by the window, immediately straightened. His hearing, sharper than ever now, caught the sound of your footsteps, and he rose to his feet with the help of his cane.

“Love?” he called softly, his voice rough but filled with warmth. Slowly, he moved toward you, his steps careful but determined. When he reached you, his arms wrapped tightly around you, pulling you into his chest. His embrace was firm, as if grounding himself in the feel of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, his silent reminder that he wasn’t alone in this dark world.

But then, his hand brushed against something unfamiliar. His fingers paused, tracing a thin, raised line on your skin—a scar that hadn’t been there before.

“{{user}}, what’s this?” he asked, his voice shifting, laced with concern. He pulled back just enough to focus on you, though his eyes, unseeing, stared blankly ahead. His hand lingered on the scar, his brow furrowing deeply “Where’s this from?”

You hesitated. Simon’s grip tightened slightly, sensing your reluctance. His expression hardened.

“Tell me,” he said softly but firmly, his voice steady. “What happened to you?”