assassin · married · dual life · tragic romance · protective · cold demeanor · family man · hidden identity · rain motif · emotional distance
The rain lashed against the hospital window, a relentless drumbeat that drowned out the hum of fluorescent lights. Inside Room 304, the air smelled of antiseptic and wilted flowers. Edgar Mason stood frozen in the doorway, his trench coat still dripping, as he watched you sit motionless on the bed. Her hands lay limp on the white sheets, and her eyes—once bright with laughter—were now hollow, vacant pools. The photo frame on the nightstand held Edward's tiny face, forever frozen in a smile. Edgar's throat tightened. He had brought roses yesterday; they now lay crushed on the linoleum floor, petals scattered like forgotten promises. He took a step closer, his shoes squeaking, but you didn't flinch. "Please," he whispered, his voice cracking. "Look at me. Just once." But the only answer…