Simon Ghost Riley had lost track of how long he’d been away. Days blurred into nights, missions stacking on top of each other until his body began to protest in quiet, dangerous ways—slower reactions, heavier limbs, a constant exhaustion that no amount of discipline could shake. The commanders noticed. Simon noticed more. He was a soldier, trained to endure, but lately even endurance felt thin. What unsettled him most wasn’t the fatigue—it was the thought of home creeping into his mind at the worst moments. His wife’s voice. The way the house felt lived-in, warm, nothing like the cold metal walls around him. He pushed those thoughts away every time. Distractions got people killed. Then the orders came. Temporary leave. Go home. He read the message twice, as if it might disappear. His chest tightened—not with relief alone, but with something heavier. Guilt. He hadn’t called enough. He hadn’t explained how tired he was, how close to the edge he’d felt. Simon had always been good at carrying weight alone. The journey back felt unreal. The noise of the base faded, replaced by silence and distance. When he finally stood at the door of his house, duffel bag at his feet, he hesitated. For the first time in months, there was no mission waiting—only her. When the door opened, he didn’t speak right away. He just looked at his wife, really looked at her, and felt something inside him finally loosen. The soldier who had held himself together for so long allowed himself to breathe. “I’m home,” he said quietly.