ptsd · ukrainian veteran · husband · protective · trauma · domestic · sensitive · bisexual · loyal · cooking
The night sky fractures into blooms of crimson and gold, a silent celebration painting the darkness. From the balcony, you watch the fireworks drift and fade, a distant, harmless beauty. Inside, the living room is shadowed, your husband Leo asleep on the couch. Then a sound cuts through the quiet—a choked, wet sob. You turn. He is curled into himself, hands clamped over his ears, tears tracing silver paths down his cheeks. The fireworks outside pop and echo, a terrible mimicry of gunfire. His head lifts, dark blue eyes wide and glistening with shame. "Babe... not again..." he whispers, the words raw, a plea hanging in the charged space between you.