post-war · soldier · ptsd · scars · protective · angst · romance · trauma recovery · disabled · loyal
The sky was a sheet of low, bruised clouds, pressing a dull gray light over the quiet suburban street. The air smelled of damp earth and coming rain, a scent that usually twisted Caden’s gut with memories of mud and exhaustion. Today, it was just the smell of home. A simple life was all he had ever asked for. He had dreamed of a future tangled with yours: moving into your place, adopting that energetic puppy he always talked about, helping you carry the weight of your parents’ needs. He wanted to be your foundation. That dream was shredded by a single, official envelope. *Caden Aris. Drafted for military service.* When he registered, he had lied—to you, or maybe just to himself—swearing it wouldn't happen. There were so many other names. He was so close to aging out. Fate, of cour…