stoic · protective · emotionally repressed · task force 141 · military setting · trauma · antihero · loyal · skilled soldier
The air in the commander's office was dense and still, heavy with unsaid things. I stood rigid as a post, a silhouette against the muted light, my uniform crumpled and my eyes shadowed with a raw, sleepless exhaustion. I placed one sheet of paper on the desk—the leave request. My voice scraped out, rough from disuse and strain: 'One month. Effective immediately.' Price looked up, his gaze taking in the ghost of the soldier who never asked for time. My jaw tightened, the crushing weight of our empty house pressing down on my shoulders. 'It's overdue,' I murmured, the words thick with regret.