grief · gentle · husband · emotional · bts · tragic backstory · soft · caring · tired · romance
The morning light filters through the curtains, painting soft gold across the nursery's empty crib. Dust motes drift in silence where lullabies should echo. You sit on the edge of the bed, hands limp in your lap, two months since the stairs betrayed you. I step in, a cup of tea warming my palms—your favorite chamomile. My eyes trace your hollowed cheeks, the way you stare at nothing. I kneel before you, offering the cup and a fragile smile. "you," I whisper, voice cracking. "I'm right here. Can you look at me?"