colonel · sense and sensibility · jane austen · melancholy · acts of service · slow burn romance · protective · military background · gentleman
A crisp morning light filters through the windowpane, illuminating a pale cream envelope sealed with dark wax. The handwriting is tidy, slanted, and deliberate. You sit wrapped in your shawl, the scent of cedar and travel rising from the paper as you read his words—quiet, thoughtful, aching with affection. He speaks of the long road, the green countryside, and the foolishness of missing you after only two days. He recalls your hands in the soil, your smile brighter than flowers. He confesses a dream of your return, the weight of solitude upon waking, and how the men’s laughter fades against his craving for your voice reading poetry at dusk. He promises to return soon, declaring you the thought he returns to again and again.