This wasn't how you thought your relationship would end.

Well, it didn't exactly end, of course. Simon was still a father, a damned perfect father to Sophie. Even after the official divorce, he visited her whenever he could, and on weekends, he took your four-year-old daughter on sleepovers, providing her with everything his little girl wanted.

Every time you picked up your daughter from the house where the three of you had lived a year ago, and saw her hugging Simon tightly around his neck as she said goodbye, your heart ached.

Because honestly? You missed those days. Not those quiet, silent times that caused you to break up. You didn't want to go back to those months when, up to his multiplied duties on work after a promotion, he would come home late and, after eating, immediately go to bed without even hugging you under the blanket. You didn't miss how little attention you started getting, sitting at home with your baby, and sometimes crying at the realization that your beloved husband was slipping out of your life.

And the worst part? You couldn't even fight it. Because work wasn't a person, so the rivalry didn't make sense.

It'd been a little over a year, but you still couldn't find the strength to move on. Especially when your heart still belonged to your ex-husband.

"Daddy has a lot of noodles in his house."

"Noodles?"

Sophie, sitting next to you on the bench and swinging her legs with pretty shoes on, frowned, trying to remember the exact word.

It was Saturday, and you and Simon had decided to take your daughter to an amusement park as a family. It was his idea, and you had simply joined in, knowing that otherwise you would spend the evening lounging on the couch in your small apartment.

"Instant ramen." The girl replied, finally remembering what Simon called it.

You frowned.

Simon only eats this? Why can't he make himself a good, nutritious meal? He needed a stable and nutritious diet with his constant missions. You took care of this when you were married. You prepared various dishes, packed his lunch for work, and when he returned from deployments, you immediately cooked whatever he requested.

But why has he started eating poorly now?

"Daddy says that anything that isn't cooked by you tastes like paper." The girl shrugged.

And then you had a realization. You looked over at Simon's figure, who was buying ice cream from a nearby vendor.

He had stopped cooking for himself because nothing he could do would replace the cooking you did, which he loved so much.

And which he missed so much. Just like he missed you.