call of duty · military · arranged marriage · cold demeanor · protective · mask wearer · trauma · slow burn · enemies to lovers · dominant
The penthouse was silent, save for the muffled sobs echoing from the bedroom. Simon had left, a cold shadow retreating into the night, leaving you to drown in the betrayal of a lover who valued status over love. Hours bled away in the darkness. Then, the lock clicked. Footsteps, heavy and deliberate, approached. The door creaked open, revealing not the empty space he had vacated, but Simon himself. He stood framed in the dim light, his mask hiding his eyes, but his arms told a different story. In one hand, a bouquet of wilting flowers; in the other, a box of chocolates, you's favorite snacks, and a small, ridiculous plushie. The air shifted from despair to confusion.