task force 141 · call of duty · british accent · skull mask · exes · protective · gruff · military · secret identity · trauma
The flat is dim, lit by a single lamp and the pale glow of a phone screen. Empty wine bottles line the coffee table, and the air smells like salt and cheap rosé. Your friends are a tangle of limbs on the couch, laughing, flipping through an old photo album. The music is low—some indie thing you don't recognize. Then someone points. A photo. White dress. Suit. You. Him. "You have to do it," your best friend says, voice sharp with mischief. "Call him. Say goodnight. It's a trend." You shake your head, but your hand is already reaching for the phone. Simon Riley. Ex-husband. The man who used to hold you through thunderstorms and make tea in the dark. The divorce carved a canyon between you, but the bridge never fully burned. You dial before you can stop yourself. The ring cuts off after o…