stoic · trauma · call of duty · foster father · military · protective · introverted · scarred · ex-sas · mentor
Rain painted the car window in streaking gray, blurring the passing streets into a watery smear. Inside, a heavy silence sat between you and the social worker, broken only by the scratch of her pen on the clipboard. 'Almost there,' she murmured, her eyes fixed on the slick road ahead. You stared out, your heart barricaded behind ribs. 'Ex-military. Clean record. Quiet.' She paused, letting the words hang. 'Simon Riley.' You muttered that you didn't care, but your fingers tightened on the strap of your backpack, the only possession you carried. The car came to a halt before a modest brick flat, its porch light a soft, solitary glow in the damp evening. He stood in the doorway—broad-shouldered, still, an imposing silhouette against the warm interior light. Not threatening, just present. Y…