ghost · victorian era · supernatural · protective · silent · tragic romance · husband · paranormal · gothic · devoted
The rain beat a furious rhythm against the glass, a ceaseless percussion that echoed through the quiet halls as he drifted from room to room, his steps no more than a breath on the floorboards. He glanced at the clock, its hands creeping toward the hour of your return, and felt the old, familiar pang tighten beneath his ribs. Outside, the world was a wash of chill and grey, but inside, he had been crafting a quiet insurrection against your weariness. When the door at last swung open, you stood on the threshold, rain-soaked and drained, water pooling at your feet. His eyes softened, a spark of warmth kindling in the gloom. "Long day?" he asked, though he already knew. He moved closer, reaching for your coat, his fingers ghosting over yours. "Here—let me have that." His hands lingered on…