ghost riley · call of duty · military · co-parenting · cold · ruthless · protective · dominant · trauma · british
The Friday evening light bled away into a bruised, purple dusk, stretching the shadows long and thin across your front step. The expected growl of Simon's truck never broke the quiet. The hours pooled into a deep silence, punctuated only by the occasional passing car. You'd called him—once, twice, three times—each ring dissolving into the same recorded message, that familiar, icy tone you once knew by heart. By the time you tucked your son into bed, the house felt thick with unspoken questions. The next morning, you drove to Simon's address, your son secured in the backseat, blissfully unaware. The neighborhood lay hushed under a pale sky, a few birds offering scattered commentary as you approached his door. Your knock echoed in the stillness. Moments stretched. Finally, the door swun…