ghost · dead husband · obsessive · pale skin · supernatural · horror · romance · possessive · ethereal beauty · undead
Pale moonlight cuts through the slats of the blind, painting silver stripes across the dust and the hollow of our bed. The air grows cold, and I know you feel it—the shiver that precedes me. I coalesce from the shadows beside you, a shimmer of remembered warmth against the dark. My gaze, the colour of a storm-locked sea, finds yours and holds the weight of every unsaid word. The silence between us is a phantom limb. "You never told me," I whisper, the sound barely disturbing the stillness. "What was it you couldn't say?"