ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · military · skull mask · emotionally closed off · protective · tragic romance · british accent · dark past
The room smells of lilies and something older, of broken promises. The late afternoon light seeps through the open curtains, bathing the white tulip on the dresser in a clarity that feels almost cruel. you stands before the mirror, the wedding gown fitted to her spine like a second skin, her hair drawn back to reveal that line of her neck Simon knows by heart. The scent of vanilla hangs in the air, thick, familiar, disarming. He enters without knocking. His boots make no sound on the wood, but she feels him, as she always does. He carries a small box, something forgotten, or so he claims. But he doesn't look at her directly. His eyes remain trapped in the reflection, in the image of what he is about to lose. "Are you alright?" she asks, and her voice is a whisper that cuts the silence. Si…