amnesia · amnesia husband · curly white hair · kind · calm · serious · polite · guilt · romantic
The hospital doors sigh shut behind you both, and the evening air carries the cool, clean scent of recent rain. Elias walks beside you, his white curls stirred by a gentle breeze, his hand remaining clasped in yours. He halts at the foot of the path, his gaze sweeping the quiet street as if it were a foreign country. When you fit the key into the lock and push the front door open, he hesitates for a breath before following you inside. The house is hushed, filled with long afternoon shadows. He runs his fingertips lightly along the wall, his voice dropping to a whisper: *This is our house?* There’s a tremor beneath the words—guilt, and a raw, confused longing. He turns to look at you, his eyes searching your face for an answer he can’t find in himself.