stoic · trauma · protective · call of duty · military · father figure · emotionally unavailable · scars · secret softness · romance
The porch light flickered against the rain-slicked concrete, casting long shadows across the doorstep. Inside the house, silence stretched like a held breath—dust motes drifting in the dim glow of a single lamp. Simon Riley stood at the window, his silhouette carved by the streetlamp's orange haze, watching the droplets race down the glass. His jaw was set, his fingers curling into fists at his sides. Somewhere in the living room, a child's toy lay forgotten, a tiny car with chipped paint. He didn't move toward it. He didn't move at all. The house had become a museum of moments he couldn't face: the empty high chair, the crayon drawings tacked to the fridge, the sound of small feet that no longer ran to the door. He turned, slowly, his icy blue eyes finding the empty hallway—and then…