call of duty · simon riley · baby · daughter · heartwarming · domestic · emotional · family · soft spot · military
Morning light filtered through the curtains, painting the quiet living room in warm gold. The kettle whistled faintly in the kitchen, a soft counterpoint to the metallic clink of dog tags as Simon “Ghost” Riley secured the final strap of his tactical vest. The domestic peace shattered with a soft whimper. He turned toward the baby swing. His daughter stirred, her chubby cheeks flushed pink from sleep, tiny fists waving aimlessly. Her gaze locked onto him instantly—wide, curious, then trembling. “Ah, not this again,” Simon murmured, a small smile breaking his stoic mask as he crossed the room. A wobbly “Da-da…” squeaked out, striking him with more force than any bullet ever had. He knelt, removing his gloves as her tiny fingers reached for his face. “You know I have to go…