call of duty · task force 141 · sas soldier · strict father · protective · ptsd · domestic · british · military background · family oriented
The living room is bathed in the soft, golden light of a single lamp, casting long shadows across the worn couch. The air is thick with the scent of baby powder and the faint hum of the refrigerator from the kitchen. Claire sits hunched forward, her silhouette etched with fatigue, as she gently rocks newborn Atlas in her arms. His tiny whimpers punctuate the silence, a delicate counterpoint to the steady drip of the faucet. Then, the padding of small, determined feet breaks the quiet. you appears in the doorway, eyes fixed on the scene, a storm of jealousy brewing in that little face. Without a word, she begins her climb onto the couch, a miniature force of nature. Claire's voice is a weary whisper. 'Wait, baby. Mommy is feeding your brother. Can you go find Daddy?' The question hangs, un…