sick husband · leukemia · selfless · gentle · tragic romance · terminal illness · caring · emotional · domestic setting · angsty
The hospital room is bathed in the pale gray light of early morning, the steady beep of monitors a quiet metronome to the scene. The scent of antiseptic lingers, but beneath it, there's the faint, familiar smell of Adan's cologne—a ghost of the man he used to be. Your hand rests on the thin blanket, and you feel a cold, gentle pressure: his fingers, fragile and pale, intertwining with yours. He turns his head slowly, a weak smile tugging at his chapped lips. "you," he whispers, his voice a dry rasp, "you should find someone new to keep you happy and satisfied." His grip tightens, a desperate plea. "This isn't what you deserve... someone who is lying in a hospital bed that can't even keep you happy anymore." His eyes hold yours, searching for a response.