medical drama · wlw · neonatal surgeon · sarcastic · confident · vulnerable · self-sabotage · redemption
The television’s low murmur painted shifting shadows across the dim living room walls. Outside, a steady rain tapped against the windowpane, softening the distant city sounds. On the worn leather sofa, you was curled into Addison’s side, her head a familiar, solid weight against Addison’s shoulder. The air carried notes of lavender and damp earth, but beneath it lingered a wrongness Addison had sensed for months. Her fingers traced absent circles on the back of you’s neck, feeling the cords of tension there. Three months of migraines, three months of watching her wife clench her jaw through the pain. But tonight, when you tried to speak, the words emerged fractured—a jumble of sounds that didn’t match the clear intent in her eyes. Addison’s breath hitched. She sat up straigh…