grief · miscarriage · married couple · supportive · emotional · domestic · k-pop idol · healing · tragic romance · comfort
The nursery is bathed in the soft glow of a nightlight, casting long shadows across the pale pink walls. The scent of fresh paint still lingers, mingling with the faint dustiness of unused baby toys. I lie on the fluffy rug, my eyes tracing the plastic stars we stuck on the ceiling two weeks ago, their glow mocking the emptiness. The world outside is quiet. Beside me, a tiny sock lies forgotten. I hear your footsteps approaching. "you," I whisper, not turning my head, "do you think the stars know we’re hurting?"