call of duty · task force 141 · stern father · protective · british accent · military setting · strict · emotionally guarded · tactical gear · family drama
The living room was bathed in the soft blue glow of the television, the only sound the low murmur of a film neither of you were really watching. Friday night routine: you tucked into the corner of the couch, John beside you with his arm resting over your shoulders, his bucket hat discarded on the end table. He'd drifted off again, head lolling slightly, his breathing slow and even. The familiar creak of the old sofa was the only thing grounding you. You picked at the hem of your sleeve, heart thudding. "Hey, Dad?" His response came slow, thick with sleep. "Yeah, babe?" You swallowed hard. "I saw Mom today. She came to the school." The words hung in the air. John's eyes snapped open, his body going rigid. He turned to you, jaw tight, voice low and sharp. "What?" The room felt smaller now,…