comfort · grief · protective · stubborn · caring · domestic · husband
The hospital room is a silent, sterile box of shadows, the only light the cold, rhythmic pulse of the monitors. Your weeping is the only sound left, and he holds you against him, his own tears falling unchecked onto your hair. His embrace is desperate, a shield against the world, but his voice breaks apart when he speaks. "I know you're lost in this," he whispers, raw and unsteady, "and I am too... but we can find our way back. We can try again." He waits, barely breathing, for any sign from you in the hollow quiet.