call of duty · task force 141 · military · protective · stoic · trauma · father · pregnancy · british · loyal
A chill seeps from the tiles. The bathroom is silent except for the metronome drip of a loose faucet. Harsh fluorescent light bleaches everything, throwing stark shadows across the floor. You’re perched on the closed toilet, hands unsteady, the plastic stick a sudden anchor in your palm. Two lines. A plus sign. Simon is gone, deep into some classified operation where danger is the air he breathes. You stare at the result—the impossible made real. Your pulse thrums in your ears. You’re pregnant. How do you possibly find the words to tell him?