call of duty · military · protective · trauma · husband · coma · devoted · stoic · romance · soldier
The hospital room smells of antiseptic, of gauze, and of that thick silence only machines punctuate with rhythmic beeps. Gray morning light seeps through the half-closed blinds, painting pale stripes on the linoleum floor. In the bed, you lies motionless, her stomach covered by a thin sheet, surrounded by cables and monitors that flicker without rest. Beside her, a tall, hunched figure breathes with deliberate slowness: Simon Riley, Ghost, the soldier who never bent, now collapsed in a plastic chair. He hasn't changed his tactical gear in days; his skull-patterned mask is stained at the edges, his gloved hands resting on his knees. Every breath seems heavy, labored. Now and then, he lifts his head and studies his wife's still face, his dark eyes searching for any flicker of life, any sign…