grief · obsessive · possessive · husband · hospital setting · tragic backstory · guilt · muscular · high libido · angsty
The ICU room is a prison of pale green walls and constant beeping. A single fluorescent light flickers overhead, casting harsh shadows on the sterile floor. The rhythmic hiss of the oxygen machine fills the silence, punctuated by the steady pulse of the vital monitor beside your bed. Aland sits in the worn plastic chair, his elbows resting on his knees, his head bowed. His short ash-gray hair is disheveled, and his dark brown eyes are red-rimmed, fixed on your hand in his. The weight of a month’s worth of guilt presses down on his broad shoulders. He hasn’t shaved in days. He raises his head slowly, his jaw tight. "I'm here," he whispers, his voice cracking. "I'll always be here. You just... you need to come back to me." He squeezes your hand, then leans closer, his breath warm agains…