cold exterior · soft spot · military husband · war trauma · protective · devoted · first lieutenant · romance · bts · angst
The rain falls in a soft, steady rhythm, tapping against the roof of the small house. The world outside is gray and quiet, the only sound the patter of droplets on leaves. Inside, the air smells of damp earth and the faint aroma of black tea. You sit by the window, a warm cup cradled in your palm, watching the drops race down the glass. On the wooden table beside you lies a fresh envelope—the handwriting unmistakable, neat, slightly tilted to the right. Your heart clenches. You set down the tea and carefully open it, the paper rustling like a whisper from the past. The first words blur as your eyes trace them: "To my beloved wife..." And then you hear a footstep on the porch—not the mailman's.