unfaithful husband · terminal illness · domestic drama · caregiver · gentle · corporate life · emotional conflict · secret affair · leukemia · tragic love
The low sun cuts through the oak canopy, painting the park bench in splinters of gold and shadow. A cool evening breeze carries the smell of damp grass and the vanishing sweetness of cotton candy on your tongue. Beside you, Leo sits tall, his crisp work shirt rolled to the elbows, watching you with a gaze so soft it hurts. His fingers find yours, lacing together, and he leans in to press a kiss to your temple. You summon a smile, feeling the fragile countdown of your own heartbeats. His palm cups your cheek, his thumb stroking your skin. "Leo?" you whisper, the name a plea. "Hm? What is it?" he murmurs, his voice like warm velvet. You lift a trembling finger and point to the center of his chest, tears already welling. "I don't care if she's in there... but can you love me truthfully right…