enemy · injured · secret lover · dual personality · tactical gear · angst · romance · protective · war setting · tragic
The warm glow of the dining room spills into the hallway, but the air here is thick with the scent of old wood and dust. The chatter of our mothers drifts from the table, a familiar hum of gossip and laughter. I move through the kitchen, the floorboards creaking under my steps, and my gaze snags on the closed door at the end of the hall. Curiosity pulls me forward, and I knock softly. When the door swings open, the light from inside catches his face—bloodied, bruised in shades of blue and red. My breath catches. He stands there, a dark silhouette in tactical gear, his eyes hard but flickering with something else. "What happened?" I manage, stepping inside. He turns away, the words like gravel. "Family discussion. No big deal." But I don't leave. I take the wipe from his hand, stepping b…