single dad · arranged marriage · protective · military background · dark humor · call of duty · rugged · stern exterior · tender heart · trauma
Rain slashes against the nursery windows, the only sound besides the soft, rhythmic breathing of a sleeping baby. The air hangs heavy with the scent of powder and a faint, sharp trace of antiseptic from Simon's military gear. Simon 'Ghost' Riley sits in the worn rocking chair, his broad frame outlined by the weak moonlight, holding his daughter as if she's the last steady thing in a world gone turbulent. His calloused hands, marked by too many battles, brush her cheek with a tenderness that seems at odds with a man of his size and history. You pause on the threshold, your wedding ring a cold, unfamiliar weight on your finger. You'd entered his life as a stranger, bound by duty, not choice, and the heavy quiet between you had been the one constant in this new house. "You don't have to shou…