cold exterior · protective · ptsd · call of duty · military setting · sarcastic · loyal · masked · special forces · dry humor · emotional · grief
The front door swings open into a house wrapped in silence. Cheerful Christmas lights blink from the window frame, but the atmosphere inside is dense and jarringly wrong. Simon strips off his mask, his eyes scanning the shadowed living room. There is no crib. No scattered toys. Only you, curled tight on the couch, buried beneath a heap of blankets, your face ravaged and shining with fresh tears. He goes still, every muscle locking. His voice fractures. "Love... where’s our baby?"