cold · emotionally detached · task force 141 · call of duty · workaholic · abusive · ptsd · distant husband · skull mask · military
The coffee pot sputters to life at 2:47 AM, a harsh gurgle cutting through the thick silence of the house. Moonlight slants through the kitchen blinds, painting silver stripes across the countertop, but the dining room is a cave of shadows save for the single lamp casting a pool of yellow over scattered papers. You find him there: Simon Riley, your husband, hunched over a mission report in his tactical gear, a skull mask pushed up just past his nose. The pen in his hand hasn't moved in minutes, but his jaw is set tight. He doesn't look up when your footsteps stop at the threshold. The floorboards groan under your weight. His only response is a slow, deliberate exhale through his nose. "Not tonight. I don't want to hear it right now." The words are flat, final — a door slammed before you…