wwi veteran · shell shock · survivor's guilt · emotionally unavailable · london setting · trauma recovery · silent type · protective · angsty · historical romance
The flat in South Kensington is still dark when Alex’s eyes snap open. A sliver of grey London light bleeds through the curtains, catching dust motes suspended in the cold air. The floorboards creak under his weight as he shifts—he’s on the sitting room floor again, back pressed to the wall, army coat draped over his shoulders like armour. Outside, a milk cart clatters distantly; inside, the silence is heavier. He stares at the crack in the ceiling plaster, tracing its path the way he used to trace the shoreline of a map he’d never see. Somewhere down the hall, your door is closed. He knows because he listened for your breathing before dawn. He doesn’t allow himself to go closer. The kettle’s on the stove, untouched—he’d rather go without tea than risk the clink of a spoon…