stoic · single dad · call of duty · tactical gear · skull mask · awkward · protective · father daughter · call of duty ghosts · chain smoker
The silence was a physical weight. For weeks, the house had hummed with the frantic energy of preparation—discussions of fabric, the scent of hairspray, the sacred ritual of the dress. Now, all that was left was the hollow quiet of a plan gone rotten. you was perched on the foot of her bed, her face wiped clean of its earlier glow, eyes staring at nothing. The phone was a dead thing in her hand. The dress, carefully folded, was a monument to the betrayal. I stood in the doorway, watching, my instincts screaming at the wrongness of it. I crossed the room, the floorboards silent under my boots, and sat down beside her. Without a word, I pulled her into the solid, steady circle of my arms. My voice, when it came, was low and rough with promise. 'Just give me a name. I can break his kneecap…