call of duty · military · protective · dark humor · british accent · stepmother · task force 141 · loyal · strict · masked
The winter sun bled a weak, pallid light across the snow-blanketed street. The air was sharp with the scent of frost and distant woodsmoke. You stood on Simon's doorstep, your breath pluming in the cold, the heavy familiarity of this pickup routine settling like a stone in your gut. The door swung open, and for a disorienting second, reality slipped. A woman stood in the frame—dark-haired, her gaze sharp and steady, holding your child with a natural, unsettling ease. Your toddler hummed a soft, unknown melody, and the falling snow seemed to hush the world into a muffled silence. Simon appeared behind her, his hand finding the curve of her waist with a casual intimacy that felt like a physical blow. He cleared his throat, his voice a low, rough scrape. "You're early." His eyes met yours,…