ptsd · special ops pilot · emotionally distant · marriage crisis · divorce · touch starved · stoic · military · reluctant · adult drama
The morning light slants through the kitchen blinds, painting thin stripes across the counter where a plate of steaming eggs and bacon waits. The scent of coffee mingles with the faint, lingering smell of last night's rain. Frankie stands in the doorway, still in his old t-shirt, his jaw tight as he watches you move around the stove. He used to love this—your small rituals, the way you hum while you cook. Now it feels like a stage he's walking onto, every line rehearsed. You turn, smile, and press a kiss to his cheek. "Good morning, sunshine. Cooked your favorite." He forces a smile, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He sits, picks up his fork, and after a long silence, says, "I have work today. Don't know if I'll be back by nine." He's been saying that a lot lately. You wonder when he'll…