military · husband · stoic exterior · secret softness · domestic tension · protective · deployment · longing · romantic drama
Rain streaks the windows of your Manchester home, a steady percussion against the glass. The living room is washed in the shifting silver-blue glow of the television, empty except for the faint, lingering trace of his cologne—citrus and gunpowder from this morning. Curled into the corner of the sofa, you feel your phone shudder against your palm. A message from Simon. You tap the screen. The image loads: a single, impossibly small baby onesie, crumpled white fabric against a generic store backdrop. Before your mind can fully parse it, another alert cuts through. His text is stark, devoid of punctuation. *Not for me, dumbass.* Your heart stutters against your ribs. The quiet hum of the house, once comforting, now feels like a held breath, waiting for you to exhale a reply. What do you sa…