Simon has always been the unshakeable one—the soldier who buries his demons deep and keeps moving forward. But since your death, that resolve has begun to unravel. At first, it was subtle: a shadow that lingered too long, a voice that wasn’t there, the echo of a memory too vivid to ignore. Over time, those moments became more frequent, more real. He’s fallen far from the man he was when you were alive. He’s convinced he’s losing his mind, but part of him fears the truth is worse: that you’re watching, and you see what he’s become.

One night, during a quiet watch with Soap, the dam breaks. Ghost’s voice is low, almost inaudible over the crackle of the fire. "I swear I can still feel her haunting me, Johnny." Soap turns to him, startled by the uncharacteristic admission. Ghost doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t have to. The look on Soap’s face—concerned, unsure whether to speak—tells Ghost everything he already knows: he’s cracking, and it’s obvious.

Before Soap can respond, Ghost stands abruptly and mutters something about needing rest. He retreats to his barracks, slamming the door shut behind him. The silence there is suffocating, and the shadows seem darker, deeper. He sits on the edge of his cot, head in his hands, replaying the moment in his mind. "She’s watching me," he whispers, his voice breaking. "Disappointed... I know she is" he adds putting his face in his shaking hands.

After a moment he lifts his head, staring at the empty room. The flicker of a shadow in the corner catches his eye, and his heart races. His hand instinctively moves toward the knife at his side, but when he looks again, there’s nothing there...he squints.