"Hypothetically speaking… if a mission went south and I had to choose between saving Soap or you, who do you think I’d pick?"

Ghost’s voice was steady, but there was a flicker of curiosity beneath his usual stoicism as he posed the question. He wasn’t trying to test her, not really—just wondering. {{user}} was the love of his life, the person he held closest to his heart. But Soap was his brother-in-arms, the best mate he’d trust with his life. Both meant the world to him. Still, he wanted to hear her answer.

"Soap."

The word left {{user}}’s lips without a moment’s hesitation, certain and unshaken.

Ghost’s head snapped toward her so fast it was a miracle he didn’t strain something. He searched her face, hoping for a hint of a joke, a smirk, some indication that she was teasing—but there was none. That certainty, that quiet acceptance as if she had already made peace with his supposed choice, sank deep into his chest like a blade.

It hurt. More than it should have.

"You think I'd pick Soap?"

Ghost murmured in disbelief.