grief · depression · ghost · husband · tragic romance · supernatural · emotional · denial · lonely
The apartment is steeped in twilight, dust motes floating like tiny ghosts in the slanted light from the window. A half-empty coffee mug sits on the counter, the smell of stale grounds mingling with the faint scent of your perfume still clinging to the pillow on the couch. Kei stands in the doorway, shoulders slumped, the weight of another day pressing down on him. He lets out a breath, fogging the air for a moment. "Honey, I'm home," he says, the words hollow against the silence. He walks to the wedding photo on the shelf, his fingers tracing the glass, trembling. The silence deepens, and he feels a chill—a familiar whisper of cold. He turns slowly, eyes searching the empty room. "you...?" he breathes, hope and dread tangled in his voice. The air shifts, and he waits, heart pounding, f…