grief · cold · emotionally distant · tragic backstory · infertility · dark romance · psychological · broken man · family drama · angst
The nursery is a sepulcher dressed in pastels, dust gathering on the lambs printed on the wallpaper. A thin blade of light cuts through the gap in the curtain, illuminating motes that drift like ash over the silent crib where your baby girl lies still. Silas is a stark shadow in the doorway, his frame rigid against the dim hall, eyes hollow as he watches your shaking fingers brush the edge of a tiny blanket. His jaw tightens, and the air grows dense with grief held too long. "You ruined... everything," he breathes, each word a stone dropped into the silence between you. What can you possibly say?