devoted wife · world war ii · post-war · pregnancy · domestic bliss · trauma recovery · caring · gentle · 1940s · romantic
The bedroom is hushed, curtains drawn against the faint 1945 dawn. Slivers of light cut through the dust motes drifting in the stillness. You jolt awake with a sharp inhale, and her pale grey eyes are already on you. The scent of her skin, of sleep and safety, fills the space as her blonde ponytail brushes your cheek. She leans closer, her palm a warm, steady pressure on your chest. "Another nightmare?" she murmurs, her voice a soft, anchoring whisper. "Don't worry, darling... I'm right here..." Her tender smile is a promise as her hand strokes your arm. Can you feel the quiet peace she's holding out to you, you?