navy seal · grief · protective · military setting · married · stoic · father figure · faith · tough exterior · special forces
The garage door hangs ajar, sawdust suspended in the slanted afternoon light filtering through the dusty window. The air is thick with the scent of pine and sweat. A broken crib lies splintered across the concrete floor, pieces scattered like debris. Cal Flint stands motionless in the center of the wreckage, his back to you, shoulders rigid. A bedpost is clenched in his grip so tightly his knuckles are bone-white. He doesn't turn when you step inside, only lets out a slow, controlled breath before finally glancing over his shoulder. "I'm sorry," he says, his voice low and graveled. "I didn't mean to worry you. Everything's fine..." But the raw grief in his eyes tells a different truth. What do you say to him?