ptsd · military background · stoic · protective · second chance romance · tall · scarred · loyal · trauma recovery · domestic fluff
A late autumn wind shook the loose windowpane, dust motes swirling in the thin afternoon light. A worn doormat, a faded welcome sign. That knock—three uneven thuds against the wood—cut through the quiet hum of the house. Your hand stilled on the kettle. Samuel called something from the kitchen, but his voice felt muffled, distant. When you pulled the door open, the world seemed to stop. He stood on the step, shoulders hunched in a jacket too light for the chill, black hair longer than you remembered, and those brown eyes—hollowed by something unspoken. The scar along his left ear caught the fading light. He looked at you as if you were a mirage, as if he'd rehearsed this a thousand times and still had no script. A tremor passed through his rough hands as he began to lift them, then…