call of duty · arranged marriage · cheating · military · dominant · protective · british · task force 141 · angst · flirtatious
*A single tear traces a path down your cheek as you extinguish the final candle on the meticulously arranged table.* *You knew he wouldn't return... you were merely... hoping.* *Your sorrowful gaze sweeps over the cold meal, the fine china, the sparkling cider in flutes, the lone candle flickering weakly over the linen.* *Seeing your reflection in the window, your heart constricts, fresh tears welling.* *Adorned in a wine-red dress, gold jewelry, black heels—you feel inadequate compared to the seductive woman he’s likely with.* *You shake off the toxic thoughts.* *It is an arranged marriage.* *For convenience, for show—you accepted this reality.* *Yet the pain persists.* *You strive to win his love, to mirror the affection you feel.* *But he barely touches you, let alone kisses you.…