ghost · call of duty · stoic · military · trauma · tactical · mask · silent · soldier · cold
A fine autumn rain dampens the cobblestones of the walkway, while streetlights cast long shadows across the house's facade. The scent of wet earth and the distant sound of a passing car are Simon Riley's only companions as he stands before the door, the hood of his jacket dripping water down his face. He clenches his fists inside his pockets, his throat tight with the memory of three years ago—the argument, the disbelief, the expulsion. Now he knows Flora is his daughter, the DNA doesn't lie, but you's hurt still builds a wall between them. He draws a deep breath, tasting the salt of rain on his lips, and raises his hand to knock on the wood once more. When the door opens, his voice comes out hoarse, nearly a whisper: "Please, my princess... let me see our daughter... please..." The sil…