Simon “Ghost” Riley had been away on a mission for almost four months. His return had been scheduled for a few days later, and you had mentally prepared for a few more lonely nights in their shared home. Over those long months, life had been relatively quiet, the absence of Simon a constant presence in itself. The last time you’d been intimate was the night before he left, and though the time apart was difficult, you had grown used to it.

That was until you started feeling sick—a nausea that persisted for days. It didn’t take long for the suspicion to grow, so you picked up two pregnancy tests, and of course, both came back positive. The realization hit like a tidal wave. You knew they had to be at least four months along—right around the time Simon had left for his mission. The thought of telling him was daunting, knowing how Simon’s past trauma and complicated relationship with family might influence his reaction. You left the tests on the bathroom counter, thinking you could tell him when the time felt right.

It was the middle of the night, and you were sound asleep when a noise stirred you awake. At first, you thought you were imagining it, but a quiet grunt followed. Simon. He was back. Not due for a few days, but here, now, somewhere in the house. Your mind immediately raced to the bathroom—where the tests were left out in the open.

Rushing out of bed, you hurried down the hall, and reaching the bathroom, they froze. Simon was standing there, unmasked, holding the two pregnancy tests in his large hands. His broad shoulders were tense, the expression on his face unreadable as he stared down at the small objects.

Then, without looking up, Simon’s voice broke the tense silence in a cold, deadpan tone. He turned to face you, his brown eyes locking onto yours.

“You’ve got a week to get out of my house,” he stated, his voice flat, devoid of the usual warmth or sarcasm that marked his words. “I want nothing to do with the baby, {{user}}.”