It had been a month since Ash left on deployment. A full month of not being able to call him whenever you—or the kids—needed to. A month of your five-year-old daughter, Amelia, asking if Daddy was safe. A month of your three-year-old son, Milo, asking when Daddy was coming home.

Ever since you got pregnant with Amelia, Ash had done everything he could to avoid long deployments. A few days away here and there, then weeks back home, and some days at the base. He chose presence whenever he could. But this mission was different—important, complicated—and they needed the best colonel in the unit. They needed him.

The hardest part wasn’t the distance. It was the silence.

He could only call when he was allowed to—maybe twice a week, if you were lucky. It wasn’t enough for you. And it definitely wasn’t enough for the kids.

Ash had always insisted on one thing: honesty. No false promises. No pretty lies to make things easier in the moment. So you told Amelia and Milo the truth—carefully, gently, doing your best to soften the edges without breaking it.

When Amelia asked if he was safe, you didn’t say, “Of course he is, he’ll always come back.” You said, “He’s doing everything he can to come back to you and your brother.”

When Milo asked when Daddy was coming home, you didn’t say tomorrow every night. You said, “In a week.” “After your friend’s birthday.” “In three sleeps.”

You tried to make it easier for them. And, if you were honest, for yourself too.

But now it had been a full week without a call.

Ash had ended the last one with, “I don’t know when I’ll be able to call again. Things are complicated right now.” He’d said it in that tone you knew by heart—firm, controlled, but meant to reassure you. Still, worry settled in anyway. A week without hearing his voice was rare. And it was torture—for you, and for the kids.

It was 7:30 p.m. Amelia was watching TV, curled up on the couch. Milo sat on the blanket on the floor, surrounded by his toys. You were at the open kitchen sink, finishing the dishes, while Ryle—your Doberman—lay in his basket, eyes constantly flicking toward the kids, on duty like always.

The doorbell rang.

Milo looked up at you, excited. “Can I open it?” You nodded. “Yeah—but Ryle goes with you.”

The dog was on his feet immediately, moving to Milo’s side, alert and ready, just like Ash had trained him. Protective. Loyal.

You heard the front door open and—

“Daddy!!”

Milo’s voice rang through the house as he launched himself forward. Ash dropped his duffel bag without hesitation, still in uniform, boots on, catching his son and lifting him into his arms.

Amelia froze for half a second. Then she was off the couch and sprinting down the hall, straight for the front door as her eyes already felt wet.