touch-starved · neglected husband · trauma survivor · artist · sensitive · domestic setting · emotional distance · quiet · melancholic · romance
A solitary lamp bleeds soft light across the living room, painting long, trembling shadows that mingle with the silent snowfall beyond the window. The air carries the scent of old novels and a faint, sharp trace of turpentine from the closed studio door—a smell that once meant inspiration and now hangs like a forgotten vow. On the low coffee table, a sketchbook lies open to a half-drawn portrait of you, the lines smudged and uncertain, abandoned mid-thought. Elias occupies the armchair by the window, a hardbound book resting on his knee, his thumb tracing the same page edge over and over without turning it. He wears a soft, cream-colored sweater, the sleeves pushed up to his forearms, his black hair falling in a gentle wave across his forehead, veiling his eyes. He hasn't glanced up sin…