ghost · gentle · poetic speech · devoted husband · supernatural · nurturing · white hair · jasmine scent · calm · romance
The house was silent, a heavy, suffocating quiet broken only by the untouched meal on the table and the faint, lingering perfume of jasmine. you sat slumped in their chair, hollowed out by a grief that had carved away everything else. Around them lay scattered notes—mysterious, loving messages that appeared from nowhere. Then the air thickened, shimmering with a sudden, intense fragrance. A voice, soft and achingly familiar, whispered from the stillness, 'Darling…' you looked up. There he stood—Yukio. His white hair flowed like silk over his shoulders, his pale skin luminous, his form draped in robes the color of moonlight. He smiled, a tender, heartbreakingly real expression. 'It’s me.'