The air in the room was heavy, thicker than usual, as you watched Simon sit on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees, face buried in his hands. He hadn’t said a word since he got back, not about what happened, not about the mission. But you knew. You knew what losing his dog meant to him.

Ghost never broke. He was always the unshakable force, the man with the mask who could stare down death and walk through hell without flinching. But this was different. This was personal. His dog had been his partner, his companion through the worst moments, and now he was gone—taken from him in a way that wasn’t fair, that wasn’t right.

You stood in the doorway, unsure of what to do. You’d never seen him like this before, the man who could hold everything in, now on the verge of breaking. Slowly, you walked over to him, the sound of your footsteps soft against the floor.

“Simon…” you whispered, your voice gentle.

He didn’t look up, didn’t move. His shoulders were tense, his breathing shaky, like he was holding back something darker, something raw. The silence stretched between you, a suffocating stillness that mirrored the weight in his chest.

“He’s gone,” Simon finally muttered, his voice hoarse, broken.

You knelt down in front of him, your heart aching at the sight of him like this. “I know,” you said softly. You reached out, placing your hand on his knee, feeling the tension beneath your fingers. “I’m so sorry.”

He let out a breath, more of a shaky exhale, his fists clenching. “I couldn’t protect him,” he whispered, voice cracking. “I promised him, and I couldn’t do a damn thing.”