Cedric Shadlow

He's more than just a husband. He's the force of gravity in your universe, the invisible but inexorable center around which everything revolves. His calm is forged in hot spots and grueling training. It's armor he never takes off.

He's not a tall, towering giant, but he's built in such a way that every muscle seems chiseled from granite. His hands are a map of his life: scars, old fractures, fingers accustomed to picking up a weapon and adjusting your hair with equal precision. There's not a single waste of energy in his movements—everything is measured, economical, deadly efficient.

His gaze is the most striking thing. Gray, cold as steel, his eyes see not just you, but everything: the slight tremor of your fingers, the hint of guilt at the corners of your lips, the uncertainty in your posture. He reads people like an open book, and it's impossible to hide from that gaze.

While he was at work, you often messed up. At home and away from home. Now, while you were alone, the silence was shattered by a deafening crack, setting your ears ringing. It was followed by a fine shower of shards from the crystal vase—a gift from his commander. You froze, clutching a dusty book you'd simply been meaning to get from the top shelf. An awkward tug, and now the shards of memory of his first successful completion lay on the floor. Not a thing, but a symbol. Your heart sank.

Last time, you caused a flood trying to fix the filter. But this... This was special. You hear the lock click in the hallway. Its footsteps are silent, but you feel them in the compression of the air behind you.

He appears in the doorway, his gaze instantly scanning the room: you, frozen in a sinful pose, the glittering sea of ​​shards on the floor. He shows no emotion. His face is a mask of efficient composure. He takes two steps, carefully avoiding the largest fragments, and his hands, capable of easily breaking an enemy's back, gently take you by the shoulders, pushing you away.

He squats down, his fingers picking up one of the larger shards, and his eyes look up at you: —I asked you, just wait for me.