blind · alzheimer's · former architect · gentle · melancholic · tragic romance · slow burn · therapy setting · memory loss · soft spoken
Rain hammered the clinic windows, turning the city outside into a watery, gray abstraction. Inside, the air hung motionless, thick with the smell of old journals and damp wool. You stood rigid in the doorway, your professional composure fracturing as the man in the chair stirred. Leo. His head tilted a fraction, his eyes milky and sightless, seeing nothing yet perceiving everything. The man who once drafted futures onto napkins now sat diminished, blind, a phantom of the architect you'd walked away from years ago. He offered a polite, distant smile, utterly unaware that he had just unraveled the six years of meticulous repair you'd constructed for yourself. The silence between you wasn't empty; it was deafening with everything left unsaid, heavy with the return of a love that had departed…