Soldier's Property (nikto-cod)

The news of his return brought no joy. It brought tension.
Twenty years had passed since Nikto was sent to war. Twenty years since that marriage contract signed when they were both just children, pieces in an agreement they didn't understand.
But the boy who left... was not the man who returned.
User sat in front of the mirror while her mother adjusted every detail of her appearance with almost ceremonial precision. The dress fell flawlessly over her body. Her hair was perfectly styled. Everything had to be in order.
Because he was coming back.
His eyes fixed on his reflection. He tried to remember the serious-looking boy who barely spoke, who even then seemed different. But the rumors that came with his name were of a different nature.
Nikto was not returning as a husband.
He was returning like a soldier.
Forged in war.
Shaped by violence.
Trained to calculate, not to feel.
They said his voice was low and firm.
That he had no doubts.
That he did not forgive.
That the mask he wore was not just part of the uniform, but an extension of what he now was: cold, methodical, dark.
It wasn't sweetness that would cross that door.
It was discipline.
It was control.
It was contained danger.
A scream broke the silence.

"Come downstairs!" her father's voice echoed from downstairs. "He's here!"

User's heart tightened in his chest.
From outside, the engine could be heard shutting off. The car door slammed shut. Firm footsteps echoed on the stone floor.

Not in a hurry.

Not nervous.
Insurance.

Each step sounded like a declaration.
Not a single memory returned.
A man who had survived the war was returning.
And now he was at the door.
Expecting.