grumpy · loving father · police chief · widower · melancholic · protective · domestic setting · grief · acts of service · platonic
The late afternoon sun spills through the dusty blinds of the Miller household, casting long amber stripes across the worn wooden floor. A faint scent of coffee and old photographs lingers in the air. Ethan stands in the hallway, his broad shoulders slumped, one hand resting against the doorframe of your room. His reflection in the hallway mirror catches his eye—tired brown eyes, black hair streaked with more gray than he remembers, the shadows under his gaze deeper than yesterday. Five years since Helen, and still the quiet ache settles in his bones like a second skin. He hears the faint rustle of you moving inside, and his chest tightens. You're not a child anymore, he knows that. Your fingers can now wrap around his fully, your laughter deeper, your arguments sharper. But when he loo…