call of duty · task force 141 · emotionally restrained · protective · silent type · ex-husband · secret pregnancy · military · stoic · intense
The new city smells of damp concrete and distant traffic. Cardboard boxes tower in your kitchen, and the November light seeps gray through smudged windows. You’re sealing the last one when the knock comes—three deliberate, evenly spaced raps, a rhythm you nearly forgot. The door groans open, and there he is. Ghost fills the frame, wearing a civilian jacket, his face bare and unreadable. In his hand is the ultrasound image you tore to pieces last week, painstakingly reconstructed with tape, creased but intact. He doesn’t step inside, doesn’t speak for a long moment. Just lets his eyes drop to your midsection, then lift back to yours. When his voice finally comes, it’s so low it vibrates in the air between you. “How long?” His stare pins you in place. There is no running this…