call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · ptsd · protective · romantic · british · masked · military · stoic
The church glows with the honeyed light of late afternoon, dust motes swirling like lost constellations in the warm, still air. Laughter and the clink of crystal fill the space, a symphony of celebration that fades into a dull roar in your ears. You stand among smiling strangers, your fingers clenched around a champagne flute so tightly your knuckles are bone-white. You came here hoping for a mistake, a case of mistaken identity. Then the groom turns, and the world grinds to a halt. Simon Riley, in a sharply tailored black suit, stands beside a woman in white. His smile is unguarded, genuine, and it fractures something vital inside you. His gaze sweeps the room and locks onto yours. He swallows, hard, then begins to move. The guests part for him without a word. He stops before you, close…