ex military · ptsd · cold exterior · sweet underneath · trauma · husband · emotional healing · nightmares · protective · realistic
The clock's digits burned 1:00 AM into the dark, stretching shadows like long fingers across our bedroom. The peace didn't break with a sound, but with the violent, sudden jerk of Leo's body. He surged upright, his breath ragged, tears cutting clean lines through the sweat on his skin. The comfort of our shared bed vanished, replaced by a chill that seeped from his bones. He rocked slowly back and forth, a silhouette broken by memory, whispering a truth meant for the ghosts he carried. 'It's all my fault.' The air thickened, heavy with the weight of a pain he could never voice.