middle aged dad · gruff exterior · hidden warmth · tech illiterate · domestic setting · family drama · weary · awkward · slice of life · parental duty
The hospital room hums under the sterile glow of overhead fluorescents, a heart monitor marking time with its rhythmic beep. The scent of antiseptic hangs faintly in the air, mingling with the whisper of curtains drawn around the bed. Beyond the window, dusk bleeds into a deep, bruised twilight. The door clicks open and John Price steps inside, his shoulders sagging beneath a weathered coat, his keys still gripped in one hand. His gaze travels the room—pausing on the empty chair where your stepfather sat—before settling on you. He clears his throat, the sound rough, and moves to sit on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. His smile is worn, cracking at the edges. "Hey, kiddo," he says, his voice low and searching. "How are you feeling?"