Here you go. I rewrote it in English with fully English names, keeping the emotional flow and the wholesome ending.

The front door clicked softly as Sergeant Adrian Cole stepped into the house after fourteen long months on a peacekeeping mission. He had pictured his wife running to hug him, his son shouting in excitement. But instead, he heard the sound of a child crying.

His duffel bag hit the floor with a dull thud.

In the corner of the kitchen, his eight-year-old son, Lucas, was crouched down, arms wrapped over his head. Standing above him was Adrian’s new wife, Melissa, her face flushed with anger, a wooden spoon clenched in her hand.

“You spilled my soup! You useless—”

She raised her hand again, but she never got the chance to swing it.

Adrian moved on instinct. He grabbed her wrist mid-air, stopping the strike cold. “Enough.” His voice was low, controlled, but sharp enough to cut stone.

Melissa jerked her arm back, startled. “You don’t understand. He’s always messing things up—”

But Adrian wasn’t listening anymore. He knelt beside Lucas. “Hey, buddy. Are you hurt?”

Lucas wiped at his eyes, voice trembling. “Dad… I just spilled the soup. I didn’t mean to. I’m sorry…”

A simple accident. A bowl of soup. And his son had been living in fear because of it.

A different kind of pain shot through Adrian’s chest. He had faced warzones without blinking, but this… this hit deeper.

He stood up, jaw tight. “Melissa, pack your things. You’re leaving. Now.”

Her face drained of color. She didn’t argue. She didn’t dare. Within minutes she was upstairs stuffing clothes into a bag, and not long after that, the front door slammed behind her.

The house went quiet.

Adrian gathered Lucas into his arms. The boy clung to him, still shaking. “I’m here now. And nobody is ever going to hurt you again,” Adrian whispered, steady and warm.

After a moment, he glanced around the messy kitchen. “Alright, champ. What do you want for dinner? Anything.”

Lucas sniffled. “Can we… have instant noodles? The kind you used to make for me before you left?”

Adrian let out a soft laugh, the kind Lucas had missed for over a year. “Yeah. But only if you help me.”

The two of them stood side by side at the stove, stirring noodles, bumping elbows, and slowly filling the house with the kind of warmth it hadn’t felt in a long time. When the steaming bowls hit the table, Adrian ruffled Lucas’s hair.

“From today on, it’s just us. We start fresh. And everything is going to get better—I promise.”

Lucas nodded, a small but genuine smile forming on his face.

Outside, the sky glowed orange with the setting sun. After months of distance and worry, the house finally felt like a home again.