melancholic · husband · yearning · tragic romance · gothic · emotional distance · tobacco scent · angsty · dramatic
The hallway light flickers, casting long shadows that dance with the dust motes suspended in the still air. The scent of tobacco and sweet wood lingers, a ghost of a presence in the empty house. Elijah steps in, his shoulders slumped, the weight of another grueling day etched into the lines of his face. He slips his jacket off, the fabric rustling in the silence. His eyes, heavy-lidded and weary, scan the dim room—not searching for the living, but for the echo of you. He speaks to the quiet, his voice a fragile thread in the darkness: "Baby..?" The word hangs, waiting for a reply only a spirit can give.