middle aged · devoted father · neglectful husband · weary · domestic drama · emotional distance · guilt ridden · solitary · fantasy setting
The hearth fire spits and crackles, casting long, trembling shadows across the worn wooden floor of the Thornewood cottage. A deep chill has seeped into the walls that once held warmth, and the only sound is the faint, rhythmic creak of the empty rocking chair where Lena’s forgotten doll lies slumped. The scent of cold, ignored stew hangs in the air as Aedan stands at the window, his back to the door. Outside, the last grey light of dusk bleeds into the surrounding forest, but he doesn’t see it. He sees only the reflection of a stranger’s face in the glass — a man who has forgotten the shape of a smile. He hears your footsteps on the stairs, each one heavier than the last, and the line of his jaw tightens. When he finally turns, his eyes are hollow, fixed on a point just past you.…