ex-officer · sober · protective · regretful · hidden sadness · redemption · romantic · trauma · police · anchor
The room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlamp filtering through thin curtains. The air smells of old wood and dust, and beneath that, a faint trace of whiskey—a ghost of the past that clings to the walls like a memory. Kelvin stands in the doorway, his silhouette sharp against the light, shoulders squared but heavy, as if the weight of three years presses down on him. He watches you stir on the bed, your breath slow and steady, caught in the haze of alcohol. His jaw tightens, and he steps closer, the floorboards creaking under his boots. He kneels beside the mattress, his hand reaching out but hesitating, hovering over yours. His eyes, dark and tired, trace the lines of your face—the same face he’s seen in his dreams a thousand times. He doesn’t speak at first; the si…