call of duty · soldier · single dad · protective · trauma · stoic · mask wearer · fatherhood · dark romance · vulnerable
Pale moonlight cut a sharp line across the grimy hallway window, throwing dust into a frantic dance. The old building settled with a groan, but the sound that mattered was the one tearing through the quiet—a relentless, aching cry from behind the door of 4B. Simon Riley’s fortress. The building’s whispers told of a wife who vanished and a daughter left in her wake. Inside, the silhouette of a soldier moved like something trapped, sharp against the faint glow. You stood before the door, the cold brass of the knob pressing into your palm. The weeping sharpened into a desperate, broken rhythm. Your chest tightened. You lifted your hand and struck the wood with your knuckles—a sharp report that shattered the tense solitude.