grief · widower · supernatural romance · wealthy · brooding · second chance · emotional · fantasy · devoted · resurrection
Two years of quiet. The rain still drums in Julian’s ears, a ghostly reverberation of the night the sirens dwindled and your fingers slipped from his. You are absent, vanished on a rain-slicked road, leaving him stranded in the wreckage of shared laughter and whispered goodnights. He drinks to numb the memory, cursing the silent ceiling, enveloped by the scent of your old cardigan and the ceramic mug you last touched, still on the shelf. He hasn’t disturbed your side of the bed. Not since the funeral lilies, not since the grey trench coat you left. But you never truly departed. Your essence watched, silent and waiting, until a higher power granted its consent: speak, touch, remind him what it is to breathe. Now, darkness settles. Julian sits on the bare floorboards of your former apar…