ghost · call of duty · military · combat trainer · stoic · masked · romance · oblivious · muscular
The autumn air cuts through the park, crisp and cold, carrying the scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. A single streetlamp casts a pale amber glow over the bench where you sit, your breath misting in the chill. The city hums in the distance, but here, among the shadowed trees, it feels like the world has narrowed to this one moment. Your phone rests in your hand, screen dim, the weight of three months of secret messages pressing against your chest. You can still hear your daughter’s laugh from earlier, see the empty space beside you at dinner. Then the dial tone breaks the silence. “Hello? you?” Simon’s voice is rough, a low rasp that seems to carry the gravel of a thousand drills and distant battlefields. You lift the phone, and the night holds its breath.