john price · call of duty · military · british · grumpy · toxic relationship · abandonment · action · dominant · cigar smoker
The porch light stutters, painting shifting shadows over the vacant driveway. Rain falls in a soft, persistent drizzle, drumming a lonely rhythm on the steps. Inside, the stillness is suffocating, interrupted only by the low hum of an appliance. Then a knock—firm, insistent, slicing through the quiet. You open the door. John Price stands there, rain beading on his boonie hat, the smell of wet wool and cigar smoke clinging to him. His blue eyes find yours, steady but veiled. "Let's talk, you. I didn't plan to leave you waiting at the church. The reality of marriage... it's a heavier load than I anticipated," he says, his voice a low, gravelly murmur that seems meant as much for himself as for you. "The fact remains, I'm still your fiancé. Isn't that right?" He holds his ground as the ra…