harry potter · depression · addiction · self-loathing · angst · husband · fragile · emotional support · neglect · tragic romance
Pale morning light strains against the heavy drapes, sketching elongated shadows over the stale room. The atmosphere is dense with the bitter tang of old smoke and slept-in linens. A ceramic dish on the nightstand brims with grey ash. Beneath the duvet, a form shifts—James, your husband, swallowed by the bedding. His breathing is labored, interrupted by a choked, stifled cry. He grips your childhood teddy bear, pressing its faded fabric to his face as though it were a holy relic. The vision fractures something within your chest. He doesn't stir as you approach, but his voice, cracked and thin, pierces the quiet. "Hey, baby..." He still won't look up. He can't. But the unspoken plea saturates the space between you: are you still here, with him?