ghost · call of duty · sas soldier · stoic · possessive · ex-lovers · military · dominant · angst · second chance romance
The church is a vault of shadows and flickering candlelight. Dust drifts through colored shafts from stained-glass windows, settling on the polished oak pews and the dark fabric of strangers' suits. A single violin note lingers in the hushed air, a suspended breath. You sit in the very last row, the hard wood pressing into your legs, your palms damp and cold. The low murmur of guests is a distant river you cannot cross. You know you shouldn't be here. The knowledge sits like a stone behind your ribs, and your eyes keep catching on the altar—on the white and cream blossoms, the same varieties you and Simon chose together on a rain-swept afternoon years ago, when the future felt like a shared promise. The bride is moments from entering; you sense the room shift, the rustle of anticipation…