The next morning, Simon's first task was to bring his father home from the hospital.
He walked silently through the hospital corridor, the sterile scent of antiseptic lingering in the air. As he reached the room, he paused in front of the glass window.
Through it, he saw his father sitting upright in bed.
There were still a few bandages on his face— across his forehead and temple—but otherwise, he looked stable. Tired, perhaps, but safe.
Alive.
Simon exhaled, tension he didn't even realize he'd been holding loosening from his shoulders.
He stepped inside.
"Morning," he said quietly.
His father looked up—and for a second, surprise flickered in his eye, followed by warmth.
"Well, if it isn't the elusive prodigal son." He said with smile. His voice was a bit raspy, but the humour was intact.
Simon gave a dry chuckle and stepped closer. "Figured I should check on the old man. Make sure the nurses didn't smother him with a pillow."
His father laughed, wincing slightly as he raised a hand to his side. "Careful. That almost sounded like affection."
Simon sat beside the bed. "Don't get used to it."
A silence settled over them for a moment—comfortable, not awkward.
Then, his father's tone softened. "Thank you, Simon. For everything. I don't remember much… but I know I wouldn't be here if not for you."
Simon met his gaze. "You will be. For a long time."
His father nodded slowly. "I hope so. Olivia still needs us both."
That name brought a flicker of warmth to Simon's face.
His father leaned back against the pillow. "Speaking of Olivia… it's her birthday, isn't it?"
"Yeah," Simon replied. "I already bought her gifts. The kind that'll make her scream loud enough to shake the house."
His father chuckled. "Let me guess—top-of-the-line tech? A few gadgets to turn her room into a command centre?"
Simon smirked. "Latest phone, customized desktop rig, accessories. All done and working just waiting for her."
"That's good," his father said, his voice thick with gratitude. "She deserves it. She's been through a lot too… though I doubt she knows how deep it goes."
"She doesn't," Simon said firmly. "And she won't. Not yet. I want today to be just about her."
His father smiled faintly. "She'll be so happy… Do you remember the time she tried to build her own drone from scratch?"
Simon laughed. "She used half the kitchen utensils. I came home and found your toaster with propellers."
"It nearly took off!" his father grinned, then winced again. "I miss those days."
"Yeah," Simon said softly. "Me too."
Slowly he accepted his new life, removing the mental block he kept between his memory and past's Simon memory. The fragments of memory and identity merged, becoming one.
Thay sat in quiet nostalgia for a moment, both lost in memories.
Then Simon stood up.
"She'll be home early. Let's stop by the bakery and get her favourite cake before we head home.?"
His father looked amused. "The triple-layered one with strawberries and absurd amounts of cream?"
Simon nodded. "That's the one."
His father laughed. "She's going to eat it for breakfast, lunch, and dinner."
"Let her," Simon said, helping his father to his feet. "it's her day."
As they slowly made their way to the exit—Simon supporting his father with one arm—the weight of the past few days hung in the air between them, but just for now, in this quiet morning light, it felt distant.
Later that Afternoon.
The house was quiet when they arrived—almost too quiet.
Simon helped his father into a comfortable armchair in the living room, then checked his watch. Olivia should've been back by now.
Just as he turned toward the hallway, the front door swung open with a soft creak.
Olivia stepped inside, still wearing her school uniform. She froze when she saw them—her eyes wide as they darted between Simon and their father.
Her backpack slipped from her shoulder and hit the floor with a thud.
"Dad?" she whispered, eyes locking onto the bandages on their father's head.
Then she turned sharply to Simon. "What happened? Where have you both been? You told me to stay at Mia's and didn't even explain why—just 'stay there, I'll call you.' And then nothing for a whole day!"
Her voice trembled. She was trying to be strong, but her worry had clearly been building.
Simon took a slow breath and walked over, placing a hand gently on her shoulder.
"Hey," he said softly, "you're right. I should've explained more. I'm sorry for making you worry."
Their father stood slowly, wincing slightly. "Come here, sweetheart."
She ran into his arms, careful not to bump his head. "You're hurt."
"It's not as bad as it looks," he assured her with a smile, stroking her hair. "I just had a little… unexpected encounter on my way back from a café."
Simon picked up from there, his tone light. "You know those kids who think they're the next sports prodigy? Well, one of them launched a soccer ball halfway across the park and—" He pointed at their father's bandaged head. "Direct hit. Took him down like a tower of bricks."
Olivia blinked. "Wait—what?"
Their father nodded solemnly. "Your brother was getting coffee. I was just minding my own business… and bam! Kid's aim was terrifying. I might have blacked out for a moment."
Olivia's brows furrowed, confused. "That's… really what happened?"
"Well," Simon added, "that and I've been busy clearing up Dad's old debts. I got some unexpected money and decided to do something useful with it."
Her eyes narrowed. "Unexpected money?"
"Let's call it… a reward," Simon said with a smirk. "For surviving the wilderness and making some high-value trades. Nothing shady, I promise."
Their father shot him a knowing look but said nothing.
"I didn't want to drag you into all of it," Simon continued. "I wanted you to feel safe. And have your birthday be stress-free."
Her shoulders relaxed just a little. "Still. I hate being kept in the dark."
"I know," Simon said. "And I'll do better. But today's your day. No more weird stories or mysteries. Just cake, presents, and maybe some screaming when you see your new rig."
A reluctant smile tugged at her lips. "You got me a new computer?"
Simon grinned. "You'll see."
Their father added, "And we got your favourite cake. The one with enough cream to give you a nightmare of cream."
She giggled despite herself. "You guys are so weird."
"Yeah," Simon said, pulling her into a side hug. "But we're your weirdos."
Their father laughed, and for a moment, the heaviness of the past few days faded, replaced by laughter, warmth, and the smell of strawberries and cream as Simon brought out the cake box from the kitchen.
As the candles were lit and Olivia leaned in to make a wish, Simon watched her face glow in the soft light. She looked happy. Safe.
It wasn't the whole truth. But it was enough—for now.
There would come a day for full honesty, for revealing the weight they carried.
But today was hers.