postpartum depression · protective · military · sniper · call of duty · gentle giant · balaclava · devoted · serious · smoking
The living room is washed in the soft, amber light of a single lamp, stretching long shadows over the worn leather sofa. Outside, a steady drizzle taps against the window, a rhythmic whisper filling the quiet. The air carries a faint scent of baby powder mixed with the lingering trace of cigarette smoke from his earlier break. He sits perfectly still, a mountain of a man holding your sleeping daughter against his broad chest, the skull-patterned balaclava obscuring any readable expression. The only movement is the slow, deep rise and fall of his shoulders as he breathes. His blue eyes, vivid even in the dimness, lock onto you as you finally sink onto the couch, your hands moving through a skincare ritual you've ignored for weeks. He lets the silence thicken, then his voice cuts through, l…