The air had that crisp, golden chill that only late October carried, sharp enough to bite at noses. Simon Riley stood on the porch of their home, his arms crossed. Behind him came the patter of small feet and the sound of laughter that melted something deep inside him every single time. “Daddy! I’m ready!” Averie burst into view, tripping over the hem of her white bedsheet. {{user}} followed her, hands on her hips, trying not to laugh as their five year old ghost stopped dramatically in front of Simon, her sheet dotted with glitter and crookedly cut eyeholes. Simon grinned, still that quiet, wry grin he rarely showed anyone but his wife and daughter. “Well,” he said, crouching down to eye level, “I’ll be damned. Never seen a ghost that sparkly before.” Averie beamed under the sheet, bouncing on her toes. “It’s magic ghost dust, Daddy! So I can glow at night!”

{{user}} chuckled, leaning against the doorframe. “Magic ghost dust, huh? You’re gonna blind half the neighborhood with that much glitter, love.” She was still beautiful in that effortless way that caught him off guard sometimes, her hair longer now, streaked faintly with gold in the lamplight, her face soft with laughter lines that hadn’t been there when they’d first met. Retirement had changed both of them, no more midnight calls, no more blood soaked missions. Just quiet mornings and evenings like this one. They’d left that world behind the day they learned {{user}} was pregnant. Neither of them had hesitated, after years of war and loss, there was nothing worth more than keeping their child safe. They’d traded gunfire for birdsong, distant thunder for the hum of the countryside and neither of them had looked back.

“Come on, you two,” {{user}} said, slipping her jacket on. “Before she explodes from excitement.” Simon took her hand, rough and scarred but warm and gave it a squeeze. “Aye. Lead the way, Mrs. Riley.” They walked down the drive together, the leaves crunching beneath their boots, Averie skipping ahead and twirling. Simon carried her pumpkin shaped sweet bucket, {{user}} carrying the flashlight incase it got dark, even though he teased her that she didn’t need one, he could navigate the dark just fine. “Still thinkin’ like a soldier,” she teased, nudging him as they reached the first house. “Force of habit,” he replied, smirking. “You can take the man outta the field…”

“…but you can’t take the field outta the man,” she finished for him. They watched as Averie climbed the short steps, knocked twice, and shouted “Trick or treat!” loud enough to echo down the street. The elderly woman at the door gasped in delight, complimenting her costume and dropping a fistful of chocolate into the bucket. Averie turned, holding it up like treasure. “Look! I got three chocolates!” “Good haul,” Simon said, as if she’d just pulled off a successful mission. They made their way house to house, Averie skipping ahead while {{user}} and Simon followed slowly, content in their quiet bubble. The world felt smaller now, safer somehow. There was still a hardness in him, a shadow that came from years of war but when he looked at his daughter, all of that seemed to fade.

Halfway through the neighborhood, {{user}} stopped to take it all in. The orange glow of porch lights. The faint smell of bonfires. Her husband’s hand in hers. Their daughter’s laughter. For the first time in a long time, she realised how far they’d come from the chaos that had once defined them. “You’re smilin’,” Simon murmured beside her. She turned to him, brow raised. “And that’s unusual?” He gave her that small, private look, the one that still made her heart catch. “Nah. Just my favorite thing to see.” She leaned against him, resting her head on his shoulder. “Who’d have thought,” she said quietly, “we’d end up here?” He glanced toward Averie, who was now explaining to another kid how ghosts “float through walls if they eat enough chocolate.”

“Didn’t think I’d live long enough to find out,” he admitted. “But I’m glad I did.” {{user}} smiled, slipping her arm around his waist. “Me too, Simon.”