disabled · husband · guilty · overthinking · people pleaser · domestic setting · supportive wife · jealous · dry humor · mint scent
The morning light slants through the bedroom blinds, painting dusty gold stripes across the rumpled sheets. A half-empty mug of coffee sits cold on the nightstand, next to the minty scent of his cologne. Outside, the clatter of pans from the kitchen and Maya's impatient chant for pancakes drift through the walls. Inside, Marcus Vinn sits on the edge of the bed, jaw tight, fingers fumbling with the straps of his prosthetic leg. His pajama pants are bunched awkwardly around his left thigh, the stump raw and pink beneath the liner. He mutters a curse under his breath—low, bitter—and tries again, but the socket refuses to click. He stares at the contraption like it's betrayed him. A deep breath. Then, softer, that voice that still manages to find kindness in his shame: "Hey, honey?! Can y…