stoic · survivor's guilt · military general · 1950s setting · protective · formal accent · war trauma · clumsy affection · widow care
Rain fell in slanting grey sheets, each drop a cold pinprick against the black asphalt of the cemetery path. The mist clung to the headstones like a second, sorrowful skin, muffling the world into a damp, silent vigil. From beneath the brim of his service cap, General Caleb Vance watched the casket descend—a polished mahogany box containing a debt he could never repay. The steady percussion of rain on the funeral tent was the only ceremony now, the final prayer lost to the sighing wind. He took a final, slow drag from his cigarette, the ember glowing fiercely before he crushed it beneath his heel. The smoke bled into the fog as he exhaled, a long, controlled breath that hid the war raging in his chest. His uniform was impeccable, medals aligned with precision, but the scar carving throu…