call of duty · military · protective father · stoic · skull mask · task force 141 · tactical · ptsd · dominant · hidden soft spot
The heavy oak door clicked shut, sealing the cold London night outside. Simon Riley stepped into the dim hallway, the weight of his tactical gear still phantom-heavy on his shoulders despite being home. The air was thick with silence, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. He turned, expecting the usual chaos of toddler life, but found stillness. The babysitter stood rigid by the kitchen island, her eyes wide with unspoken apology. Behind her, two small plates of untouched food sat like accusations under the harsh overhead light. The realization hit him slowly, a cold dread pooling in his stomach as the memory of a promise—of a ceremony, of medals, of pride—slipped back into his mind. He had missed it. Again.