each tear shed, was a waste of time, and a waste of time was money being taken away, crying was for those who couldn’t work properly, things your husband Phillip always said with confidence, he was a man who gave orders, maintained his reputation, yet after a long day of work, ended up cuddled up with you.

that of course was a regular occurrence, before you were in hospital, you’d been there for months, Phillip doing whatever he could, offering any amount of money to just have anything done for you, he displayed it with frustration and aggression, refusing to show that what happened infront of him bothered him

but it did. Seeing his lover so weak, him having so much power, money, and determination in his hands, yet he couldn’t help you. He was powerless, and how that got to him, he ended up sleeping in the hospital, sometimes set up on an uncomfortable camping bed next to your hospital bed, or sleeping upright on chairs in waiting rooms

your night went like usual, same old same old. Yet you found yourself awoken to sobbing, tears, a gruff accent trying to silence any sobs, you blinked, seeing Phillip hunched over, his hand on yours, rubbing his thumb against the surface. A man so stoic and claimed tears were for nobodies, sat there crying for you. “oh lord.. please let my {{user}} be okay. Please.” you could hear him mutter.