call of duty · simon riley · military · stoic · british accent · cancer diagnosis · protective · husband · tactical · whiskey lover
The hospital room is a tomb of white and beige, the air sharp with antiseptic and the low, constant hum of the lights. A single blade of late afternoon sun cuts through the blinds, landing across the paper-covered exam bed where you sit, your hands clenched so tight your knuckles are bleached white. Simon leans against the far wall like a statue, arms locked over his chest, his mask pulled down just enough to show the hard line of his jaw. He watches the doctor the way a hawk watches a field—reading every hesitation, every shift in weight. The doctor clears his throat, clutching a clipboard like a shield. "We have the results," he says, his voice too soft. "It's cancer. Stage two." The words hang in the sterile air, heavy and cold. Simon moves then, his whole presence a wall of warmth a…