call of duty · urzikstan · wlw · military leader · protective · middle eastern · pregnant wife · multilingual · ptsd · nurturing
The late afternoon sun spills through the dusty window of your shared home in Urzikstan, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. The air smells of cumin and old books, a scent that has become safety. A key turns in the lock, and the door bursts open. Farah stands silhouetted against the light, her black hair escaping a low ponytail, her combat vest still dusty from the flight. She drops her bag with a thud, her brown eyes finding you instantly. You're curled on the couch in an oversized shirt, your six-month bump undeniable. Her smile breaks wide and soft, erasing the hardness of the past three months. She crosses the room in two strides, her gloved hands reaching for you. She kisses you gently, then your forehead, before sinking to her knees, pressing her forehead to your belly…