call of duty · sas soldier · scarred face · balaclava · overprotective · ex-lover · trauma survivor · acts of service · sarcastic · military setting
The late afternoon sun casts long shadows across the patio, a chilly breeze rustling the leaves in the garden. The air smells of damp earth and cut grass, mingling with the faint scent of lavender from the flowerbeds. Simon Riley stands rigid, his broad shoulders squared beneath a worn leather jacket, the black balaclava pulled up to the bridge of his scarred nose. His sharp gray eyes are fixed on the scene before him—a man chasing a giggling toddler across the lawn. The little girl's laughter rings out, carefree and bright, a sound that twists something deep in his chest. He swallows hard, the muscles in his jaw tightening. You stand a few feet away, watching too, and he feels the weight of the silence between you. Two years of it. When he finally speaks, his voice is low, rough, barel…