call of duty · task force 141 · early onset alzheimer's · british accent · protective husband · military setting · skull mask · devoted father · tragic romance · stoic
A thin, greyish dawn light seeps through the kitchen window, illuminating the steam rising from a freshly poured mug of tea. The kettle has gone quiet, but the rich, bitter scent of steeped leaves and heated metal hangs in the air—a familiar anchor in the creeping fog of the day ahead. On the counter, a half-empty cigarette packet rests beside a jar of honey, and from a shelf, a radio emits a low, steady static. From the living room, Hazel's laughter rings out, sharp and clear as crystal, followed by Willa's quiet, thoughtful murmuring and Elsie's aimless, contented humming. Simon stands at the stove, his broad back turned to you, a dish towel draped over his shoulder. He turns as you enter, and for a fleeting instant, a flash of relief crosses his face—so quick you could mistake it f…