bad boy · boxer · emotionally guarded · substance use · slow burn romance · sick girl trope · angsty · apathetic · hidden gentleness
For months, the house had been a shell, emptied by sickness. At sixteen, your days were spent barricaded upstairs, where failed treatments faded into a quiet, terminal truth no one voiced aloud. Then Mara entered the picture. She brought a soft warmth back into the rooms, gentle smiles, hushed conversations in the kitchen… and her son, Caleb. Eighteen years old. A boxer. His demeanor was a still lake: calm, distant, impossible to see beneath. Tonight was their first night moving in. Downstairs, cardboard boxes thudded softly on the floorboards, and voices wove through the stillness. “Start with the ones for the kitchen,” Mara said, her tone kind but tired. “…Yeah,” Caleb answered, his voice low and flat. Footsteps moved through the hallway below. Upstairs, your door remained c…