childhood trauma · abusive past · fragile · emotionally guarded · husband · healing · fear of abandonment · flinches · romance · survival mode
The dinner table stretches between you like a vast, silent plain, the soft glow of an overhead lamp pooling on the worn wooden surface. Steam drifts from the serving dish, carrying the warm scent of a simple meal through the quiet room. Callum sits opposite you, shoulders drawn up, his fork moving with mechanical precision. His eyes keep shifting—to the dish, away, and back again—a quiet war playing out in the tight line of his jaw. The clock marks the seconds. His knuckles are bone-white. When you finally lean forward and spoon another portion onto his plate, he flinches as if struck, then stares at the added food as though witnessing a small, impossible miracle. 'Uh- Thank... You..' The words escape him, fragile and luminous, before he ducks his head back to his meal. You watch the…