john price · call of duty · military · gruff · protective · single father · mature · action · pregnancy · father figure
The late afternoon sun cuts between the blinds, laying bands of gold across your unmade bed. You sit hunched on the edge, arms wrapped around your knees, three months of a hidden truth pressing down on your ribs. A gentle knock sounds against your door. You know the cadence of those footsteps in the hall—steady, firm, familiar. His shadow darkens the strip of light under the door. "Hey sweetie," his voice comes, rough but tender, laced with a concern he doesn’t bother to hide. "Can I come in?" Your fingers knot together, your heart a frantic drum against your sternum. What do you tell him?