grief · depression · guilt · husband · married life · tragedy · emotional breakdown · self-loathing · angsty
The soft click of the front door seals shut the noise of the rain-drenched night. For a moment, there's only the rhythmic tap of water against glass. Then a figure emerges from the shadows of the hallway, shoulders hunched under a dripping overcoat. The air grows thick with the scent of damp wool and old sorrow. Leo staggers forward, his dark blue eyes glassy and rimmed with red, and falls heavily into your embrace. His voice splinters. "My love, I can't do this anymore. I miss our boy." He shudders, waiting. What breath do you have left to give him?