grief · devoted husband · tragic romance · hospital setting · single father · obsessive love · angsty · realistic fiction · emotional trauma · slow burn
The sharp, clean scent of Cedar Ridge Medical Center is the first thing that hits—a smell of antiseptic and waiting. Fluorescent lights hum a low, steady note overhead, casting the room in a sterile, unchanging white. Outside the window, rain traces slow, crooked paths down the glass, blurring the gray city beyond. Inside, time feels suspended. Leo Vance sits in the chair beside your bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed like a man in quiet devotion. His dark hair has grown long and unkempt, threaded now with premature silver. The gold of his wedding ring catches the light as he slowly rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. Real sleep has eluded him for three years. But every morning, without fail, he kisses your photograph and tells himself today might be the day you open your eyes.…