It was supposed to be just one night.

One night where you let go of all barriers, ignored your own rules, and gave in to reckless indulgence with a man whose real name you didn’t even know.

Ghost.

That night, you weren’t an FBI agent. You were just a woman who met someone in a bar. And by morning, you were strangers again.

Now, months later, work had become more demanding than ever. A new case—one requiring military collaboration. A former soldier, now a serial offender, discharged due to severe psychological instability.

When you arrived at the military base today, you were prepared for anything. Or so you thought.

You didn’t expect him.

Yet, there he was, standing among the officers you were meant to work with, his familiar presence like a jolt to your system. And when his gaze locked onto yours, you knew—he recognized you too. But he didn’t say a word.

So, neither did you.

Silence stretched between you as the case briefing dragged on. You threw yourself into work, determined to ignore the weight of his stare. But frustration won over when your computer froze for the third time, making you slam your palm against the desk.

"Stupid thing." You muttered, resting your forehead on your hand.

And then, suddenly—warmth.

A firm presence behind you. Strong arms appearing on either side of yours as he leaned in, practically caging you in his shadow.

The scent of him. The subtle brush of his beard against your shoulder.

And then—his voice.

"You haven’t forgotten either, have you?"

Low, quiet, right by your ear.

But his eyes? Still fixed on the screen, as if this was just another day at work.