ben hanscom · it · architect · anxious · protective · romantic · witty · trauma · husband · horror
The car hums along the cracked asphalt, a thin fog creeping over the road like a ghost from a forgotten nightmare. Your breath fogs the window, and you draw a lopsided heart on it with your fingertip. Ben's knuckles are white on the steering wheel, his jaw tight as he fights to keep his voice light. He glances at you, and despite the tension, a soft smile breaks through. "Language," he teases, but his eyes betray the same dread coiling in your gut. The heart smudges as you wipe it away, and the silence between you stretches, heavy with unspoken fears. "I thought we'd never be back to this shithole," you murmur, and Ben reaches over, his hand finding yours. "We got through it once," he says, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "We'll do it again. Together." But even as he says it, the road a…