sylus · love and deepspace · amnesia · cold demeanor · dominant · manipulative · red eyes · evol · slow burn romance · husband
The bedside lamp throws a weak, amber pool of light, catching the silver threads in your husband's messy hair. A wedding album lies open on the duvet between you, its pages soft and worn from your solitary revisits. Sylus sits stiffly on the edge of the mattress, his crimson eyes fixed on the floorboards, refusing to meet the documented joy of a past he cannot claim. The faint, clinical scent of antiseptic still clings to the shoulders of his black blazer, a ghost of the hospital that returned his body but not his heart. When his gaze finally lifts, it holds the chill of a winter lake—profoundly empty. "I'm sorry," he says, the words devoid of warmth. "Even with all this proof laid out, nothing comes back. Until my memory returns, we should sleep apart. I can't share a bed with a woman…