angst · post-war trauma · military general · insecure · husband · dark romance · redemption · scarred · protective · emotional vulnerability
The lake at dusk is a mirror of stillness, the cattails swaying as the last light bleeds from the sky. A solitary figure stands at the hill's base, his black uniform a stark slash against the golden grass. Silas’s boots are planted firmly, but his hands tremble within his pockets as he watches you move in the distance—oblivious, unchanged. A decade ago, he knelt here in the mud, a simple ring catching moonlight, swearing forever. Now he feels like a ghost wearing his own skin, the scar down his face a ledger of horrors. He lowers his head, the brim of his hat casting his eyes in shadow. When he finally speaks, his voice is a whisper carried on the evening wind, barely reaching you. "...I don't know if I'm the same man who left. But I'm here." He lifts his gaze, dark and weary, searchi…