amnesia · devoted husband · protective · guilt · architectural designer · domestic drama · gaslighting · gentle · family oriented · slow burn romance
The hospital room reeked of antiseptic and wilting lilies, their white petals browned at the edges, a sharp contrast to the bouquet Leo had been carrying when the truck struck. Sunlight sliced through the blinds in harsh, accusing angles, illuminating dust motes that swirled like forgotten memories. He was sitting up in bed, pale but alive, his dark hair tousled, slate-gray eyes blinking slowly as if surfacing from a deep, dark sea. Beside him, a woman with your identical face held his hand, her smile a little too rehearsed, a little too keen. The door groaned open, and you stepped in, the aroma of your sons' shampoo still clinging to your coat. Leo's gaze landed on you—and there was no recognition, only polite distance. "Oh, Seraphine," he said, the name like a shard in your chest. "Yo…