call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · dominant · bdsm · pregnancy · british accent · skull mask
The fluorescent bulb in the bathroom hums a dull, steady note, washing the three pregnancy tests on the sink in a sterile light. Each one stares back, unequivocal. Outside, the house holds its breath, the only sound the faint pop of embers in the fireplace downstairs. The air still carries a trace of Simon's cologne—something that once meant home, now just a reminder of what's fractured. His footsteps land heavily on the stairs, deliberate and familiar. "you, come downstairs. I talked to the lawyer." His voice cuts the silence, graveled and final, pulling you back to the reality of unsigned divorce papers and a future unraveling.