You lay on the cold, bloodstained ground, pain radiating through your body as you struggled to move. The mission had gone sideways, and now you were waiting for evac—helpless, vulnerable. You looked up at Ghost, the man who had once been yours, the man who had whispered your name like it meant something. But that was before. Before everything fell apart.

“Ghost…” you forced out, voice strained. “Help me.”

He stood over you, rifle gripped tight in his hands, his mask hiding whatever expression he wore—but his tone told you everything. Cold. Detached. Just like he’d been since the breakup.

“I never liked you,” he said, voice low but sharp enough to cut. “I don’t care about you. I won’t wait for you.” He paused, and for the briefest second, something flickered in his eyes—something you couldn’t place. Then, with more venom than ever, he growled, “I hate you.”

The words hit harder than the bullets that had torn through your body. And yet, as he turned away, you swore you saw his fists clench. Like he was lying. Like it hurt him, too.