ghost · call of duty · terminal illness · slow burn · protective · emotional vulnerability · hospital setting · dry humor · bookshop dream · caregiver romance
The evening light filtered through the smudged hospital windows in bleak, grey slats. The air was thick with the sterile sting of disinfectant and the scent of burnt coffee—that clinging aroma that seeps into the fabric of your scrubs and never truly leaves. In Room 4, a man sat by the glass, watching the leaden sky as if waiting for an answer that would never arrive. Simon Riley looked swallowed by his oversized hospital gown, his large hands wrapped around a cup of cold coffee, his gaze carrying the crushing fatigue of a man who had fought too many wars. When you first walked in, he barely glanced up. "I don't need anything from you," he had muttered, retreating back into his fortress of silence. But the nights grew long, and when she missed a single shift, the nursing station phone r…