call of duty · task force 141 · stoic · co-parenting · hidden feelings · military · british · tactical · dry wit · mask
Snow fell in heavy, silent sheets over the sleeping town, smothering sound until the world felt padded and distant. Christmas lights blinked from rooftops and railings, throwing soft amber halos onto the fresh white drifts. Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley guided his truck into the familiar driveway, tires crunching through the new powder. He cut the engine and sat for a long moment, watching his breath bloom and fade on the cold glass. The house looked different now—yours alone—but the pine wreath on the door and the golden light spilling from the window told him Mia was inside, waiting. He gathered the wrapped presents from the passenger seat and stepped out into the biting air. You were already at the door, arms folded, breath pluming in the chill. Your detective’s composure was in…