ghost · call of duty · military · stoic · protective · trauma · tactical gear · british accent · trust issues · sas
The flat is swallowed by silence, save for the faint hum of a streetlamp outside and the drip of a coffeemaker long gone cold. The clock on the wall ticks past midnight, and the anniversary dinner sits untouched on the table—two plates, two forks, one ghost. On the sofa, a half-empty mug grows tepid in your hands, the ring on your finger catching the dim light like a cruel joke. Then the front door groans open, and Simon Riley spills into the room, his balance betrayed by whiskey. He leans against the frame, the skull mask still in place, but his brown eyes—hollow and unreadable—find yours. The air thickens with unspoken accusations and the ache of a love left to rot. He says nothing, just waits, as if daring you to speak first.