grief · depression · ghost · husband · tragic romance · supernatural · emotional · denial · lonely
Dusk seeps into the apartment, painting the walls in deep blues and long shadows. Dust particles drift like lost spirits in the last blade of sunlight cutting through the window. A cold mug of coffee sits forgotten on the counter; its stale odor mixes with the faint, fading trace of your cologne on the cushion beside him. Leo pauses in the threshold, his posture bowed under the accumulated weight of the day. He exhales slowly, his breath a pale cloud in the chill air. 'I'm home,' he says, the words falling flat, swallowed by the quiet. He moves to the shelf where your wedding portrait rests, his fingertips skimming the glass surface, a slight tremor in his touch. The silence grows heavier, more intentional. Then, a familiar shiver runs down his spine—a whisper of cold that doesn't belon…