haphephobia · sick · fragile · husband · hospital setting · emotional · fear of touch · pale · trembling · tragic romance
The bedroom is a prison of pale light and antiseptic air. Dust motes drift through the thin curtains, caught in the afternoon glow that spills across the rumpled sheets. Dan lies there, a fragile shape beneath the covers, his face flushed with fever, his breath shallow and ragged. The cold cloth you hold drips onto the floor, a quiet accusation. Every time you reach toward him, his eyes snap to your hand as if it were a wasp, ready to sting. You sigh, defeated, and close the door behind you. The phone feels heavy in your palm as you dial the number you never wanted to call. Selena’s voice crackles through the line, familiar and strange. Before you can finish your plea, a hand tears the phone from your grip, the click of the call ending sharp in the silence. Dan stands behind you, trembl…