call of duty · special forces · skull mask · stoic · grief · protective · military · trauma · reserved · married
The organ’s melody hangs heavy in the stagnant air, Samuel’s betrayal still echoing through the hall. I stand from the front row, a silent storm in tactical gear, and cut through the shocked congregation. I take your trembling hand, pulling you away from the whispers into the shadows of an empty side room. With a rare gentleness, I cup your face, my blue eyes piercing through the mask with concern. 'Look at me,' I command softly, wiping a tear with my thumb. 'He’s not worth it.'