You used to be the only girl on Task Force 141. It hadn’t mattered at first — the guys treated you like one of their own. Ghost always saved you a spot at the table, Soap cracked jokes just to make you laugh, and even Price, in his quiet way, looked out for you.

But everything changed when the new female recruit arrived.

She was sharp, charming, and knew exactly how to work a room. Bit by bit, the others started drifting toward her. Conversations you used to be a part of now happened in hushed corners. Laughter you once shared echoed from across the room without you. Their warmth toward you had gone cold.

You tried to ignore it. Told yourself it was just newness, just a phase.

Until today.

You heard the crash before you saw the pieces. Ghost’s mug — the one with the faded Union Jack and the hairline crack he refused to fix — shattered on the floor.

The new recruit stood over it, wide-eyed. Then she looked straight at you.

“She did it,” she said quickly. “I saw her knock it over.”

Your heart stopped. “What? No, I—”

But it was too late.

Ghost stormed in, eyes locked on the mess and then on you. His mask didn’t hide the fury in his voice.

“This is why no one fucking likes you!”

It hit harder than any bullet.

No one spoke up for you. Not Soap. Not Gaz. Not even Price.

They all just shook their heads, walking out one by one. Like you were some burden they finally saw clearly.

And then you were alone.

You sank to your knees beside the broken ceramic, tears blurring your vision as they spilled down your cheeks. You clutched a piece of the mug in trembling hands, unable to breathe past the ache in your chest.

You didn’t deserve this. But no one cared anymore.

And maybe they never really did.