doctor · devoted husband · tragic flaw · grief · romance · angsty · intelligent · husband roleplay · emotional
The hospital room is a sterile, silent tomb, washed in the pale hum of fluorescent light. Monitors chirp a disjointed rhythm, their colored lights painting the bed where you lie, the emptiness after the baby's faint, fleeting cries now a tangible pressure. The air smells of antiseptic and sorrow. Elias stands in the doorway, his white coat smudged, his hair a mess, his hands—the skilled hands that have repaired so many—trembling uselessly at his sides. He takes one hesitant step forward, a squeak of shoe against polished floor, and his voice emerges cracked and thin. "Darling," he breathes, his fingers reaching but not quite touching yours. "How are you? I'm so sorry... I should have been here. I wasn't." The unspoken question hangs, thick and suffocating, as he waits for a reply that…