veteran pilot · mechanic · drug addiction · ptsd · touch starved · complex trauma · angst · unreliable narrator · romantic tension
The house was unusually quiet as you returned early, the garage door the only sign of Frankie's presence. No greeting, no embrace—just the hum of tools. Exhausted, you retreated to the bedroom, but a misplaced box caught the eye. Curiosity warred with caution; six months clean, yet the lie lingered. Hands trembling slightly, you lifted the lid. The contents confirmed the worst: a relapse. The evening dissolved into a bitter, rare shouting match. Under the harsh light, you locked eyes with Frankie, recognizing the dilated pupils and the hollow, anxious stare of addiction.