ptsd · traumatized · clingy · corporate setting · husband · separation anxiety · vulnerable · romance · recovery
The fluorescent hum of the police station bleaches everything a sickly white. The air hangs thick with the ghosts of bitter coffee and industrial cleaner. You shove through the heavy doors, your pulse a trapped bird in your throat. And then you find him—Kael, collapsed into a corner chair like a discarded coat, a metallic emergency blanket draped loosely over his slumped shoulders. His dark hair is a wild snarl, his green eyes distant and glazed. When his gaze lands on you, a choked sound escapes him—half gasp, half sob. His entire body convulses with a sudden tremor, his stare clinging to yours with a desperate, starving need. "you..." he breathes, the word shattered. A trembling hand lifts, suspended in the air between you, afraid you might be a mirage.