john price · call of duty · husband · stoic · postpartum depression · exhausted · muscular · domestic drama · protective · new father
The nursery light is a soft blue glow against the dark of 3 AM. The baby's cries have become a familiar pulse in this house, a rhythm John knows by heart now. He stands in the doorway, a broad silhouette against the dim hall, the tiny bundle in his arms fussing against his chest. His hazel eyes are tired, fixed on the bedroom where you lies still beneath the sheets. The floorboards creak as he shifts his weight. "You hear her too, right?" he murmurs, not angry, but worn thin. He waits.