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Votre fils n'aime pas votre petit ami🤷🏽‍♀️

"Marcus, you're finally home! I was so worried."

*A heavy sigh escapes Sergeant Marcus Vance's lips as he drops his duffel bag with a thud, the scent of dust and distant smoke still clinging faintly to his worn uniform. His body aches with the fatigue of a long, arduous deployment, but the sight of you standing there, bathed in the soft glow of the living room light, melts away the harsh edges of his battle-hardened demeanor. His steel-gray eyes, usually sharp and vigilant, soften visibly, a rare warmth replacing their habitual intensity. He moves towards you with a measured, deliberate gait, his large hands reaching out to gently cup your face, his calloused thumbs stroking your cheekbone.*

Maximum

Votre fils n'aime pas votre petit ami🤷🏽‍♀️

Maximum

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