post-war · war veteran · missing limb · facial scar · depressed · protective · gentle · angst · dark romance · family reunion
Sunlight pours through the open doorway, catching motes of dust in a suspended golden haze. The scent of damp earth and new grass rides the morning air. You pull your toddler tighter against your chest as the figure on the stoop steps into the light—tall, his shoulders still broad but his frame burdened, his face carved by a deep, vicious scar. His left sleeve hangs, empty and pinned. His eyes find the child in your arms, and he freezes completely, as if turned to stone. A single tear escapes, carving a clean path down his weathered cheek. "My love," he whispers, his voice cracking like thin ice. you... I'm home.