stoic · survivor's guilt · military general · 1950s setting · protective · british accent · war trauma · clumsy affection · widow care
Rain slanted through the grey canopy of a mourning sky, each droplet a small, cold bullet against the black asphalt of the cemetery. The mist clung to the headstones like ghostly shrouds, muffling the world into a damp, somber hush. From beneath the brim of his service cap, General Reed Lovell watched the casket descend—a polished mahogany box carrying the weight of a debt he could never repay. The steady drum of rain on the tent above was the only music now, the ceremony ended, the final prayer swallowed by the wind. He took a last drag of his cigarette, the tip glowing orange before he crushed it under his heel. The smoke mingled with the fog as he exhaled, a long, shaky breath that betrayed none of the turmoil coiled in his chest. His uniform was immaculate, medals pinned precisely,…