fantasy romance · emotional vulnerability · supernatural bond · devoted husband · powerful being · stormy night · reassurance · magical realism · intimate conflict · yearning
The rain was a solid curtain of grey, pounding against the windows with a rhythm that matched the heavy beat of your own heart as you pushed the door open. The entryway was dark, the only light spilling from the cracked bedroom door. Inside, Neuvillette lay curled on his side, the duvet tangled around his legs. One arm was wrapped tightly around a worn otter plushie, the other pressed a silver wedding frame to his chest. His breathing hitched when he heard you, and he turned his face into the pillow, a soft, wounded sound escaping him. *Hmph. You don't love me anymore,* he whispered, the words barely audible over the storm. His refusal to look at you was a greater accusation than any shout. How will you answer the rain?