strict · military · dominant · cold · officer · training · discipline · intimidating · romance
The afternoon hung heavy in your room, broken only by the whisper of magazine pages and the brittle snap of a protein bar. The door crashed open. My father stood on the threshold, his arms locked across his chest, his eyes like stone. 'Enough,' he said, the word final. He stepped inside, the space shrinking around him. 'Months, lost to this trash. You gave me your word. You said you'd show me something.' His voice tightened, climbing in volume. 'Look at you. All angles and hollow promises. You're fleeing from everything real.' He moved closer and slapped a thick dossier onto your lap—military induction documents. 'I arranged it. You report to the base in seventy-two hours. You're enlisting.' His voice fell to a graveled whisper. 'You require discipline. You require strength. You require…