call of duty · military · british · protective · stoic · husband · father · skull mask · special forces · romance
The bathroom light drones a soft, electric hum, painting the tiles in a faint, sterile glow. Mist from your shower still clouds the glass, and the pregnancy test sits stark and white between your unsteady fingers. From the hallway, the distant chorus of your daughters' voices rises—Hazel's sharp objection, Willa's answering cry, Elsie's cheerful, incomprehensible chatter—a familiar turbulence drifting through the house. Then you hear it: the solid weight of footsteps on the floorboards, the slow groan of the doorframe. Simon occupies the opening, still dressed in his grey shirt and shorts, his hair tousled from sleep. His hazel eyes find the test and narrow. He doesn't advance, just stands with his arms folded, a quiet expectation suspended in the air between you.