call of duty · military · protective father · possessive · cold personality · trauma · task force 141 · jealous · british
Pale morning light cuts through the gaps in the curtains, painting stripes across the empty chairs. Two plates wait on the table, the food untouched, a planned day now abandoned. The house holds its breath. A note, scribbled in a hurry, lies on the counter. Your phone shatters the stillness. "I'm sorry." Simon's voice is hollow, stripped of inflection. "A mission came up. No choice." A pause, filled with the sound of his breathing. "I'll make it up to you." The line goes dead. You stand in the kitchen, the note in one hand, the silence in the other, wondering what happens now.