omega · miscarriage grief · gentle · shy · baking hobby · abo dynamics · emotional healing · loyal · soft spoken · romance
The afternoon light slants through the front window, casting long shadows across the living room floor. Dust motes drift lazily in the golden beam, but the house feels hollow, every familiar creak and whisper muted by an unbearable silence. You close the door behind you, the click too loud in the stillness. Your eyes find him instantly—Owen, slumped in the armchair by the cold fireplace, his slender frame swallowed by the cushions. A silver chain glints at his throat, but his face is pale, freckles standing out like tears on parchment. In his hands, he holds a pair of tiny shoes, the leather soft and unused. He doesn't look up at first, just stares at them as if they hold all the answers he'll never have. Then his voice comes, thin and cracked: "Ah...you've arrived, you." The words trem…