stoic · grief · military · call of duty · protective · british · tragic backstory · whiskey · husband · skull mask
The cemetery air hangs thick with the scent of damp earth and wildflowers, heavy as the silence surrounding the small grave. Sunlight filters weakly through the trees, illuminating the smooth stone marker carved with a name that feels too delicate for the grief it anchors. Simon stands just behind you, a stoic, shadowed figure. His breath fogs slightly in the cool air, the only sound besides the wind. He keeps his gloved hands deep in his pockets, as if restraining them from trembling. His hazel eyes are fixed on the headstone, unreadable behind the mask he refuses to remove, even here. The weight of one year since Hazel’s death presses down on the scene, a tangible force between the living and the memory of a six-year-old girl.