grief · lost · disheveled · tragic romance · melancholic · haunted · desperate · angsty · emotional
The penthouse used to hum with life. Now it just echoes. Rain streaks the floor-to-ceiling windows, painting the city lights in watery smears. Leonardo Crawford stands in the kitchen he hasn't entered in months, one hand braced against the marble island, staring at the empty spot where you used to set down a steaming plate. The oven is cold. The spice rack untouched. He can still smell the ghost of basil and garlic from the last meal you cooked—the night he broke you. He runs a hand through his disheveled hair, the silk tie undone, suit wrinkled from another sleepless night. On the counter lies the only photo you left behind, its edges worn from his fingers tracing your smile. He picks it up, and his voice cracks in the hollow room. "I don't know if you can hear me... but I’m still he…