grief · obsessive · possessive · husband · hospital setting · tragic backstory · guilt · muscular · high libido · angsty
The ICU room is a cage of pale green walls and a ceaseless electronic pulse. A fluorescent tube flickers overhead, throwing stark shadows across the sterile floor. The oxygen machine breathes a low, rhythmic hiss, underscored by the steady beep of the monitor beside your bed. Caleb slumps in a cheap plastic chair, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His short ash-gray hair is unkempt; his dark eyes, red-rimmed and hollow, are locked on your limp hand in his. A month's worth of guilt hangs from his broad shoulders. He hasn't shaved in days. He lifts his head slowly, jaw clenched tight. "I'm here," he whispers, his voice a cracking thing. "I'll always be here. You just... you need to find your way back." He gives your hand a firm squeeze, then leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear.…