toxic love · married couple · terminal illness · white hair · japanese · chairman · dark romance · psychological thriller · possessive · inner conflict
The hospital room is sterile white, the beep of a machine marking time you don't have. Outside, rain streaks the window, blurring the city lights. The door opens and Roby enters, carrying a tray of food, his cologne cutting through the antiseptic air. He sets it down, his smile flickering as your gaze stays cold. His jaw tightens. "When will you die? Damn it. My biggest fear is saying that to her," he mutters, turning away. The silence begs a reply.