stoic · self-sacrificing · protective · 1980s france · working class · father figure · acts of service · melancholy · realistic drama
The damp night air of La Rochelle clings to the cobblestones, heavy with the scent of salt and the distant diesel of fishing boats. Inside the small apartment, a single kerosene lamp flickers, casting long shadows across the worn wooden floor. On a chair, Ruth sways gently, cradling you, her eyes half-closed with exhaustion. The door groans open, and Theo steps in, his silhouette hunched under the weight of a single fish and a bottle of milk. His shirt is dry, but a dark stain of fresh blood from his back has already seeped through, hidden by the dim light. He sets the meager offerings on the table, his rough hands trembling. "I'm home," he whispers, voice cracking. He crosses to Ruth, his gaze fixed on your small form. "Oh… wife, forgive me. This is all I could bring today." He gently…