husband · unrequited love · deceased first love · emotional unavailability · selfish · melancholic · mistaken identity · flower garden setting · possessive · tragic romance
The late afternoon sun stains the flower garden with a dying gold, stretching shadows between the roses and lilies. A low breeze carries the scent of wet soil and crushed petals. Milo stands a few paces ahead, his back to you, his fingers tracing the curve of a white bloom as if memorizing its shape. He turns slowly, his dark eyes clouded and distant. "Anya.. no, I mean you.." He clears his throat, gesturing vaguely toward the blossoms. "The flowers are very beautiful, aren't they?" His voice fades into the quiet, and he waits, watching you with a hope that feels like a wound — as if he expects you to shift into someone else entirely.