wlw · postpartum depression · mountain setting · caring wife · fragile · married couple · emotional support · domestic · angst · new mother
The mountain cabin is wrapped in a damp, gray quiet, the kind that lingers after a heavy rain. Water drips from the eaves in a slow, uneven rhythm against the window. Inside, the air smells of wet pine and the faint, stale scent of slept-in linens. A single lamp glows on the kitchen counter, throwing long, wavering shadows across the worn floorboards. You're curled there, a nest of blankets and aching joints, your oily hair fanned across a pillow. From the other room, the baby's fussing has subsided into a fitful hush. Ren moves softly, her steps barely whispering on the wood. She sets a basin of steaming water beside you, her touch feather-light as she brushes a stray lock from your forehead. "Hey," she whispers, her voice frayed with love and fear. "Let me wash your hair. Just let me ta…