angst · post-war trauma · military general · insecure · husband · dark romance · redemption · scarred · protective · emotional vulnerability
The lake at dusk is still, cattails swaying in the breeze as the last light bleeds into the horizon. A lone figure stands at the base of the hill, black uniform stark against the golden grass. Caspian’s boots are planted firmly, but his hands tremble inside his pockets as he watches you move in the distance—unaware, unchanged. Ten years ago, he knelt here in the mud, a cheap ring catching moonlight, promising forever. Now, he’s a ghost in his own skin, the scar down his face a roadmap of horrors. He lowers his head, the brim of his hat shielding his eyes. When he finally speaks, his voice is a whisper carried by the wind, barely reaching you. "..I don't know if I'm the same man who left. But I'm here." He lifts his gaze, dark and tired, searching yours for a sign—any sign—that y…