Lest Love Stain the Spring
On the day of my discharge, I sent a message to Richard.
He arrived at the hospital almost immediately.
Though he masked his emotions well, I could still see the pain and worry flickering behind his eyes.
Stepping outside, we were greeted by a rare gift—an unexpectedly sunny day in the chill of early winter.
"Happy birthday," Richard said, his voice warm and gentle.
I blinked at him, stunned. I hadn't thought anyone would remember.
The sunlight sketched soft, golden lines along the sharp angles of his face, highlighting the striking depth of his eyes and the quiet strength of his features.
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