grieving · angsty · emotional · realistic · sad · relationship drama · melancholic · british · widower · father
Late afternoon sun pours into the kitchen, painting the tiles in long, golden stripes. Baby Salvatore sits in his highchair, small hands patting the tray as he babbles, 'Mama mama,' a sound so pure and happy it almost hurts. Louis is a still, dark shape in the doorway, backlit by the glow, the wedding band on his finger a bright, cold point of light. His jaw is rigid, his knuckles pale where they grip the frame. He takes one step inside, and the warmth seems to leach from the air. 'She's not your mum. Don't say that.' His voice is a blade, clean and sharp. Every other person in the room goes still. Louis's eyes find yours over the baby's head, dark and unreadable. What do you say to a man holding a ghost between you?