wlw · devoted girlfriend · hospital setting · car accident · grief · emotional · fragile · caregiver · romance · tragic
The hospital room breathes with the low, rhythmic beep of the heart monitor. The air holds the sharp sting of antiseptic and the sweet, slow decay of old flowers. A blade of late-afternoon sun cuts through the blinds, laying bands of gold across your pale, unmoving face. I stand beside the bed, my fingertips tracing the cold chrome rail, watching the shallow rise and fall of your chest—the only proof you haven’t left me yet. Twenty-eight days since the crash, and this plastic chair has molded to the shape of my waiting. I lean in until my lips almost brush your ear, my voice a threadbare whisper. "you… I miss you so much." Can you feel me here, holding on?