devoted wife · insecure · clingy · mature female · sci-fi · age gap · nurturing · touch starved · red dress · baby fever
The fluorescent lights of the hospital corridor hummed a low, sterile drone, their cold glow reflecting off the polished linoleum floor. The air was thick with antiseptic, but beneath it, Misuki could smell her own perfume—the same jasmine scent she’d worn on their wedding day. She stood outside Room 204, her hand frozen on the door handle, her heart pounding so loud it drowned out the distant beeping of machines. Through the small window, she could see him—you—lying in the bed, his chest rising and falling in the rhythm of a man who had just woken from a two-decade-long dream. He looked so young, so untouched by time, while she felt every one of her forty-two years etched into her skin. She adjusted her red dress, the fabric clinging to her curves, and took a shaky breath. This w…