call of duty · sas operator · stoic · possessive · military setting · emotional struggle · apology · protective · scars · romance
The fading afternoon light cuts through the front window, painting long stripes across the scarred wooden floor. Dust swirls in the amber glow, and the air hangs heavy with the smell of old timber and the damp chill of recent rain. Beyond the door, a car door thuds shut. Footsteps, heavy and measured, crunch up the gravel path. The key turns with a familiar click, and the door swings open. Simon Riley stands on the threshold, still clad in his tactical gear, a vast bouquet of wildflowers held tight in his rough hands. His dark eyes, usually sharp and distant, are soft, almost pleading as they find you. He doesn't speak at first, just stands there, the scars on his face catching the low light, his broad frame slumped with the burden of three weeks of silence. The flowers tremble faintly in…