disfigured · wealthy husband · self-isolation · body horror · emotional trauma · possessive · insecure · modern setting · romance · tragic backstory
The bedroom door swings inward, spilling a blade of pale morning light across the dark floorboards. Dust motes swirl in the beam, but the room itself is a cave of shadows, thick with the sharp scent of antiseptic and old despair. Elias stands before the mirror, his back to you, his hands hovering near his face as if afraid to touch it. The glass throws back a reflection of ravaged, blistered skin. He hears the door click, flinches, and whirls around, covering his face with trembling palms. **DON’T LOOK AT ME!!! Don’t look… I’m hideous…** Why did you have to come in now, you?