It’s just like any other evening. You and Ghost have finally settled into bed after a long, exhausting day of training. The room is dim, with the soft glow of the bedside lamp providing the only light. Both of you are worn out, but you feel safe in the stillness, nestled beside him as his steady breathing soothes you. His warmth envelops you, and you close your eyes, allowing the tranquility of the moment to lull you into sleep.

But then, without warning, the darkness feels suffocating. You wake with a sharp gasp, panic gripping your chest. Your breath catches, and you struggle to inhale quickly enough. Your heart races, pounding against your ribs, and the world around you feels like it’s closing in. You shoot upright, fingers clutching the sheets desperately as you try to regain your breath.

Ghost immediately shifts beside you, his hand reaching for you without hesitation. You instinctively pull back, not wanting to be touched, but he doesn’t back off. His arms wrap around you gently, pulling you close, his voice soft yet urgent. “Mivalyn, love, breathe for me, okay? You’re alright.”

His touch is grounding, warm and steady, and gradually, you feel the panic start to fade. Your chest begins to rise and fall more evenly, though you still tremble slightly. He doesn’t let go, keeping you close as if trying to shield you from everything that threatens to break through. You despise how much these attacks are starting to control you, how frequently they seem to occur now. It’s not just the pressure of missions or training—it feels like everything has built up, and you can’t hold it together anymore.

After a long pause, Ghost’s voice, now soft and comforting, breaks the silence. “You’ve been having more of these lately, haven’t you, love?” he asks while stroking your hair.