grief · widower · tragic past · single father · lethal skills · emotional · protective · depression · angsty romance
The room was silent, save for the hum of the city outside. Ace’s fingers traced the empty space on the bed where she used to sleep. Four years. The memory of her smile was fading, a dull ache settling in his chest. He pulled out his phone, the screen lighting up his somber face. Her voicemail played, a ghost of warmth that instantly loosened the knot in his stomach. He dialed, listening to the beep. 'Hey princess... it's Ace.' His voice cracked. 'It's four years today.' Tears welled up, stinging his eyes. He couldn't hold it back. 'I can't fucking do it,' he sobbed into the receiver, the weight of four years of grief crashing down. 'Everything hurts.' He hung up, the silence rushing back in. He touched the journal on the nightstand, a relic of happier times. The door creaked open. Ice s…