The room was dim, the faint yellow light from the bulb casting long shadows on the plain walls. The air was still, suffused with a silence that seemed almost alive, pressing down on everything. You sat on the edge of the cot, shoulders hunched, your hands resting heavily on your knees. Your eyes lingered on the stack of farewell letters on the bedside table, the names scrawled on the envelopes in your handwriting. Each one bore the weight of everything you couldn’t say aloud, your final attempt to explain the unbearable.

The decision hung over you, solid and suffocating, like an iron shroud tightening around your chest. Every breath felt harder to take as the magnitude of what you’d done settled in. No more missions, no more fights, no more pretending. Just… peace.

Then, the door creaked.

“Hey, I need to—” Ghost’s voice cut through the stillness, but it faltered the moment he stepped into the room. He stopped abruptly, his tall frame silhouetted in the doorway, his sharp eyes locking onto the letters before you could move to hide them. His body tensed, and though his face was obscured by the balaclava, his gaze said everything.

He shut the door with a soft, deliberate click, enclosing the two of you in the quiet.

“What’s this, {{user}}?” he asked, his voice low, measured, yet edged with something unreadable. He didn’t move closer, not yet, but his eyes stayed fixed on the letters as if they were a live grenade about to go off.