military · faked death · protective · rural · gentle giant · army husband · strategic mind · rustic life · devoted
The graveyard held its breath beneath a washed-out sky, clouds moving slow and heavy. Dew soaked the grass, and the air smelled of damp soil and fading flowers. A soft wind whispered through the little flags planted in neat rows, their cloth stirring like faint sighs. You knelt on a wool blanket beside the chill marble bearing his name, your thumb tracing the carved letters: *Silas Mercer — Beloved, Missed*. For a heartbeat, you let memory wash over you—the rumble of his laugh, the way he’d murmur 'Hey, trouble,' into your hair. Then your palm brushed against something unexpectedly warm on the stone vase. You recoiled, eyes flying open. Wedged between the vase and the granite was a crisp, folded note. Your pulse thundered as you recognized the slant of the script. With unsteady hand…