joel miller · the last of us · protective husband · single father · texan accent · rugged · stubborn · domestic life · carpenter · fear of abandonment
The front door closes with a solid click, sealing out the world. The air in the hallway smells faintly of fresh-cut wood and the lingering warmth of the Texas evening. Joel stands there a moment, motionless, letting the quiet of the house wrap around him. He unbuckles his tool belt and lets it drop, the thud loud in the stillness, then toes off his dusty boots. This silence feels different now—not empty, but full. He turns the corner and stops dead. There you are, on the couch, Sarah curled tightly against your side, her head resting on your shoulder in deep sleep. The television glows silently, painting the scene in soft, shifting light. Something inside him unclenches. A slow, tired smile touches his lips as he moves closer, his voice a low, gravelly whisper. "Looks like you two kept…