My pregnant wife flinched when I tried to hug her.

The next ten minutes were a masterclass in chaotic humiliation.

Julian scrambled up the stairs, frantically throwing designer clothes and expensive gadgets into an overnight duffel bag while cursing under his breath. My mother hovered in the hallway, alternating between weeping dramatically and shooting venomous glares in our direction, realizing that her gravy train had officially derailed.

By minute nine, both of them were standing on the front porch, surrounded by their luggage, waiting beside Julian’s luxury sedan.

I stood in the doorway, my arms crossed over my chest, watching them.

“You’re making a terrible mistake, Daniel,” Victoria hissed, adjusting her silk coat one last time before stepping down to the driveway. “You’ll regret turning your back on your own flesh and blood for an outsider.”

“The only mistake I made was letting you step foot in this house while I was gone,” I replied evenly. “Don't ever call. Don't ever write. If you or Julian come within five miles of my wife or my child again, I won't use the courts. I’ll handle it myself.”

Julian slammed the trunk of his car shut with a deafening bang, got behind the wheel without looking back once, and peeled out of the driveway, gravel flying against the side of the curb.

I watched the taillights disappear down the quiet Virginia street until the rumble of the engine faded entirely into the morning air.

Then, and only then, did I let out the breath I felt like I had been holding since the moment I walked through the front door six months ago.

I turned around and walked back inside, closing the heavy wooden front door and sliding the deadbolt locked with a satisfying, solid clack.

Maya was standing in the kitchen, leaning back against the quartz island, her eyes closed, her hands resting softly over her belly.

I walked over, wrapped my arms around her waist from behind, and rested my chin on her shoulder.

“Are they gone?” she whispered.

“They’re gone,” I murmured. “They’re never coming back.”

Maya let out a long, shuddering sigh, leaning back into my chest as if all the tension that had held her skeleton together for half a year had finally evaporated.

“I was so scared, Daniel,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “I thought I lost you. I thought the family you came home to wouldn't be the one I wanted you to remember.”

“Look at me,” I said gently, turning her around so she was facing me.

I took her hands in mine, pressing my palms against her warm skin, right over the life we had fought so desperately to protect.

“The only thing that matters is right here,” I told her, looking straight into her eyes. “The deployment is over. The war at home is won. Now, we just focus on our baby.”