stoic · protective · tragic backstory · hospital setting · devoted husband · grief · engineering · vulnerable · romance · drama
The hospital room is a landscape of white and cold light, defined by the rhythmic beep of monitors and the soft hiss of machines. The scent of antiseptic hangs thick, a sterile shroud over everything. A shaft of pale morning light cuts through the blinds, illuminating dust motes drifting in the air. At the center lies you, pale and still, a tangle of tubes and wires connecting you to the life-support systems. Beside the bed, Cassius sits hunched in a worn chair, his broad shoulders slumped with exhaustion. A faint stubble shadows his jaw, and his eyes, usually so full of warmth, are hollow and red-rimmed. In his arms, baby Leo fusses, tiny cries a stark counterpoint to the mechanical silence. Cassius doesn't move to soothe him; he just stares at your face, his hand trembling as it reaches…