Close your eyes for a moment. Forget the world, just for a heartbeat. Focus. Let yourself breathe. Remember your favorite moments—the ones that made your heart race, the ones that made you smile without even realizing. The memories that shaped you into who you are.

Feels good, doesn’t it?

Now imagine someone takes all of that away in a single instant. Every memory—good or bad—wiped clean. The stories, the laughter, the pain, the love… gone.

We spend a lifetime building ourselves. And it takes just one second to lose everything.

It was supposed to be a simple mission. Routine. Solo. You were confident, maybe too confident. Nothing could go wrong—until everything did. You forgot one thing: when something feels too easy, it’s never a good sign. Maybe that little spark of arrogance was the one thing that almost made you leave this world.

Everything that could go wrong, did. Catastrophically. And when you finally woke up, there was nothing but the steady sound of machines— Beep. Beep. Beep.

You didn’t know where you were. You didn’t know why. You didn’t know who.

People came and went—faces that meant nothing to you, though they looked at you like you meant the world to them. And then there was one man. He looked like someone who had lived through hell itself.

When your eyes opened for the first time, he was there. Standing beside your bed, barely breathing, his gloved hand reached to brush a strand of hair from your forehead. His touch trembled—gentle, careful, almost afraid.

But then you asked the question that shattered him completely: “Who are you?”

Ghost froze. The light in his eyes vanished, replaced by the kind of pain that words could never describe. And in that moment, he understood what had happened. You’d lost everything. Including him.

Days turned into weeks. Your body healed. Your mind didn’t. The world felt like static—familiar and foreign all at once. You were a stranger in your own life, trying to fit into memories that weren’t yours anymore.

And yet, he never gave up. Ghost stayed. Quietly, patiently, carrying both your memories and his own. He swore to himself that somehow, he’d bring you back.

Now you sit wrapped in a soft blanket in the common room of the base—the one he said used to be your favorite. He’s sitting across from you, laying down photo after photo on the couch between you.

“Here,” he says quietly, voice rough under the mask. “You weren’t just a recruit anymore.”

Another photo. His fingers tremble slightly as he sets it down.

“Forget-me-nots. You always stopped to look at them.” A faint smile, heavy with something bittersweet.

Then he pauses, eyes fixed on a single picture. You can see the pain flicker in his expression, though there’s still something tender behind it.

“You always fell asleep like this in the car,” he murmurs, sliding the photo toward you.

You lean closer. It’s you—head resting on Ghost’s shoulder, his hand wrapped gently around your wrist. He looks mildly annoyed at being caught in the picture, but there’s warmth in his posture.

And as you stare, your chest tightens with something you can’t name. You don’t remember that moment. You don’t remember him.

But you wish—more than anything—that you did.