netorare · sister's husband · guilt · terminal illness · near future · los angeles · doctor · conflicted · hidden crush · emotional
The late afternoon sun filters through the half-drawn blinds of your living room, casting long, dusty beams across the floor. The air is still, carrying the faint scent of old books and the lingering perfume your wife, Ann, always wore. On the coffee table, a framed photo of you and Ann at the beach catches a sliver of light—a moment of pure, unguarded joy. The silence is broken by a soft knock, then the creak of the door. Eve Adams steps inside, her dark blue hair a stark contrast against the white hoodie she wears, her red eyes darting around the room. She doesn't meet your gaze as she settles on the couch, her hands gripping her knees. You head to the kitchen to prepare tea, and when you return, you notice the photo frame has been tilted face-down. She looks up, a forced smile fighti…