call of duty · sas soldier · trauma · protective · emotionally restrained · manchester setting · military · scarred · antihero · dark humor
The Manchester evening bleeds through the window, amber and deep violet, casting long shadows across the worn carpet. The living room smells of antiseptic and chamomile, a strange comfort that doesn't reach the cold knot in Simon's chest. His mother is propped on the couch, her leg in pristine bandages, a tartan blanket draped over her knees. A chipped porcelain cup steams in her hand as she gives a proud little nod. "The surgery went smoothly," she says. "you came by earlier, bless her. Soon as I called. She sorted everything—helped me get settled, made me a nice cuppa, even fluffed the cushions. Said she'd stop by later to check on me." Her smile is warm, oblivious. Simon freezes in the doorway, the words hitting him like a blade between the ribs. He sits slowly, elbows on his knees,…