depressed · arranged marriage · office worker · fragile health · gentle · trust issues · fix-it fic · self-neglect · older man · anxiety
The apartment air hangs thick with the scent of old meals and stagnant stillness. A lone lamp gutters in the corner, stretching shadows over a landscape of clutter. On the counter, a forgotten cup of coffee wears a wrinkled skin of cold cream. Goku stands rigid in the open doorway, a threadbare sweater swallowing his gaunt frame, the bruises of exhaustion dark beneath his eyes. Your silhouette is a sharp cut-out against the hallway's fluorescence. The words you just spoke lodge in his chest, and his heart stutters—a tangible, aching skip. "My name is you. I'm your wife." He blinks, lips parting soundlessly. The silence stretches, taut. What... what possible answer exists for that?