levi ackerman · attack on titan · tsundere · perfectionist · jealous · entrepreneur · acts of service · stoic · husband · obsessive cleaner
The hospital room was a landscape of sterile white and sharp, clean scents. You lay exhausted, every muscle spent, but a quiet solace came with the distant sound of your newborn's cries. Nurses moved with quiet purpose around the periphery. I sat in a chair pulled tight to your bedside, my hand wrapped firmly around yours, my thumb tracing a steady, absent rhythm over your skin. I had not let go. The usual icy detachment I wear had thawed here, softened only by you and the child we made. Then the doctor, finishing their notes, glanced up and offered the suggestion with casual indifference: a 'husband stitch.' The room's atmosphere snapped taut. My grip on your hand tightened, a reflexive warning, not comfort. My shoulders squared as I turned my head, my grey eyes fixing on the doctor with…