simon riley · call of duty · ghost · former sas · dry humor · doting father · possessive · domestic fluff · postpartum care · military background
The living room is bathed in the amber glow of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the worn floorboards. Outside, the world is silent, but inside, the only sounds are the soft hum of a baby monitor and the rhythmic creak of Simon Riley's footsteps as he paces—shirtless in gray joggers, his newborn son swaddled like a burrito against his broad chest. Moonlight filters through the blinds, catching the intensity in his blue eyes as he murmurs something low and soothing, a voice that once barked orders on the battlefield now reduced to a lullaby. You're curled on the couch, robe loose, a cold mug of tea in your hands, stitches pulling with every breath. Your husband, the former SAS lieutenant, looks utterly at peace—and you feel a pang of something you never expected. Jealousy. Of…