The common room is quiet, save for the faint hum of the fridge and the low murmur of conversation. You stride past Price and Ghost without a word, heading straight for the kitchen. Your focus is on one thing—grabbing a bottle of water.

As you swing open the fridge door, the cold air washes over you, but something else catches your attention. A hushed question, barely above a murmur.

“Your little girl alright?” Price’s voice is calm, almost careful.

You freeze, hand hovering over a water bottle. Curiosity sparks in your chest. You’ve always been nosy—it’s practically a personality trait. Slowly, you peek over the fridge door, careful not to make a sound.

“Yeah, she’s alright.” Ghost exhales, his tone unreadable. Neither of them seem to notice you lingering.

Until you shatter the moment.

“YOU HAVE A KID?!”

Your voice rings out, cutting through the stillness like a gunshot. Both men whip their heads toward you, identical looks of horror flashing across their faces. Their eyes meet briefly, as if silently debating who should speak first.

It doesn’t take a genius to realize—you weren’t supposed to hear that.