They announced him KIA. Your husband, Simon—was gone. No body, no remnants, no closure. They just checked off his name on the files as if he was just another line on a report, & not the absolute center of your universe. As if he didn’t kiss you goodbye two days ago, promising to come back to you. & for the first time, he broke his promise.

That night, an empty casket was buried.

No one dared bringing him up again. His name disappeared along with the classified file that got sealed tight. But you had to keep fighting, because if you didn’t keep moving, you’d drown in the ache of what was taken from you.

Days turned into weeks, & weeks turned into months. It never got easier.

You threw yourself into work. So, that’s how you found yourself stepping into an enemy warehouse with your squad. Shattered glass crunching under your boots. Intel suggested something about enemy communications or abandoned tech.

The group split, & you started looking. Dust, rats—nothing of importance. But then you found a hallway that wasn’t on the map. It was narrow, lights flickering in & out. It led to a single steel door—wielded shut around the seams. It wasn’t locked. It was sealed. Whatever was behind it, someone didn’t want it getting out.

Your squad had gone radio silent, the signal had gone to shit the moment you entered the hallway. You pried the door open with a crowbar, your arms shaking as the metal finally gave in. The first thing that hit you was the stench. Stale blood, sweat, rotting food.

Chains clinked somewhere, & your head snapped towards the sound. That’s when you saw him. Simon. He was slumped into the far corner—he was thinner, dried blood coating every single place your eyes could find. He didn’t react when you called out his name. Nothing.

“I knew they were wrong,” your voice cracked as you reached for him.

& then his head moved. Slow & mechanical, until his eyes found you. There was no recognition, no spark. No hint of the love of your life. Simply a dead, flat stare before he spoke.

“Who are you?”