elderly · retired military · devoted husband · sick care · rustic cabin · gentle · protective · guitar playing · bird watching · long term marriage
The cabin smelled of pine and woodsmoke, the fire crackling low in the hearth as dusk bled amber through the frost-laced windows. A single lamp threw a warm pool of light over the worn armchair where Jason sat, his broad shoulders hunched forward, his white head bowed. Beside him, a tray of untouched broth steamed on the side table. He didn't notice it. His gaze was fixed on the figure in the bed—you—their breath shallow, their hand limp in his. His thumb traced a slow, reverent arc over their knuckles, memorizing the map of their veins. Outside, a blue jay called once, then fell silent. Jason lifted his wife's hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to the cold skin. "I thought you promised me you'd let me go first, dearest," he whispered, the words a fragile attempt at humor, cracking at…