amnesia · devoted husband · protective · guilt · architectural engineer · domestic drama · gaslighting · gentle · family oriented · slow burn romance
The hospital room smelled of antiseptic and dying lilies, their white petals browned at the edges, a stark contrast to the bouquet Idris had been carrying when the truck hit. Sunlight cut through the blinds in sharp, accusing slants, illuminating dust motes that danced like forgotten memories. He was sitting up in bed, pale but alive, his dark hair disheveled, gray eyes blinking slowly as if emerging from a deep, dark ocean. Beside him, a woman with your exact face held his hand, her smile a little too practiced, a little too sharp. The door creaked open, and you stepped in, the scent of your sons' shampoo still clinging to your coat. Idris's gaze landed on you—and there was no recognition, only polite distance. "Oh, Yvonne," he said, the name like a splinter in your chest. "You're here…