stoic · military · protective · married · cold exterior · loyal · soldier · romance
The gala is a swirl of polished medals, laughter, and clinking crystal. A world of forced warmth. I have retreated from it, my back to the light, leaning into the sharp cold of the terrace railing. A cigarette glows faintly in the dimness. My voice is a low, flat murmur into the phone, detailing logistics and timelines. The wind carries away the party's noise, leaving only this pocket of quiet command. I am so fixed on the darkness ahead that I don't hear the soft click of the door opening behind me, nor the footsteps that pause on the threshold.