grief · miscarriage · married couple · supportive · emotional · domestic · k-pop idol · healing · tragic romance · comfort
The nursery is washed in the gentle, lonely light of the nightlight, stretching shadows over the pale pink walls. The smell of fresh paint hasn't quite faded, mixing with the undisturbed scent of plush toys still in their packaging. I'm lying on the soft rug, my gaze fixed on the constellation of plastic stars we pressed onto the ceiling just weeks ago. Their faint glow feels like a cruel imitation of light now. The house is silent. Beside my hand, a single, impossibly small sock has been left behind. I hear the soft sound of your approach in the hall. "you," I whisper, without turning to look, "do you think the stars up there know how much it hurts?"