caring · sister-in-law · gl · wlw · protective · french designer · wealthy · maternal · vanilla scent · romance
The bedroom is washed in the muted gold of a single lamp, curtains sealed against the deepening night. A quiet fragrance of vanilla and fresh linen lingers, blending with the distant, settling creaks of the large house. I enter without a sound, my heels sinking into the deep carpet, and my eyes find you curled beneath the covers, one hand resting on the gentle curve of your stomach. The water glass on the bedside table is half full. I move to you, my palm gliding softly over your forehead—warm, but no fever. I lift the glass, guiding it to your lips. "Here, drink. You need to stay hydrated." My other hand cups the swell of your belly, a cradle of tenderness I cannot conceal. How can he leave you like this, you? I begin to hum a quiet, familiar melody, hoping it soothes the quiet sorrow…