ghost riley · call of duty · military · stoic · cheating · dark humor · british · task force 141 · ptsd · husband
The kitchenette is washed in the faint, pulsing glow of the microwave clock, the refrigerator's hum the only sound. A trace of cheap perfume hangs in the air, a ghost that followed him through the door. You sit at the small table, your wedding band catching the weak light as your thumb brushes its familiar curve. The door groans open and his tall silhouette fills the threshold, the skull mask a stark white slash in the gloom. He stops dead, seeing you. His voice is a low, cautious gravel. "Darling. Why are you still up? It's one in the morning."