Sometimes, a single puzzle piece comes from an entirely different box—wrong shape, wrong picture, all edges refusing to fit. And yet… somehow, it belongs.

Like a star that strayed from its own galaxy, only to find someone who couldn’t stop looking up.

But what happens when that piece no longer feels like it belongs? When the star starts wondering if it was never meant to be here at all?

You met Ghost over a year ago, entirely by accident. It could’ve been a scene from a cheap romance novel—too short to reach the top shelf in the store, you were struggling when he appeared and grabbed the item for you. The only difference? There was no exchange of warm smiles, no magical eye contact where the world pauses. Oh, no.

Ghost did not make a good first impression. He muttered something under his breath about how things like this always happen to him, then added something about a damsel in distress. Unfortunately for him, he said it loud enough for you to hear.

And for the first time in a long while, he felt embarrassed. Embarrassed enough to make up for it by inviting you for a beer. Not a drink, not dinner—beer. Straightforward, no-nonsense, entirely unromantic. Or so you thought.

That night turned out to be nothing like you expected. Somehow, you ended up on the same wavelength—though your worlds couldn’t be more different. His sharp humor made you laugh, and he actually seemed interested when you spoke about your love for books. Together, you quietly judged other bar patrons, whispering sarcastic remarks between sips.

It just… clicked.

Something that had no right to exist became one. You were sunlight in every room you entered, and he carried a darkness that made people step aside in the street.

And yet, over time, friendship turned into something more. A kind of love poets would waste entire lifetimes trying to describe. The way he looked at you—like there was nothing else in the world worth seeing. Simon “Ghost” Riley, the man who swore he could only love the barrel of his gun… loved you.

Tonight, he decided it was time to introduce you to his friends. Some you knew from his stories, others only in passing. Among them was one girl who, according to Ghost, liked to call herself “one of the boys.”

By the time everyone gathered at Ghost’s apartment, you were already nervous. You’d prepared everything the best you could for the small get-together—warm snacks, cold ones, drinks. You wanted it to go well. You wanted to be liked.

But she had other plans. From the moment she walked in, it was clear she didn’t approve of your presence. Her “friendly” greeting: “Wow, Ghost, you’ve really changed your type.” The way she constantly pulled his attention away from you. The way she playfully slapped his arm or poked him in the ribs, like you weren’t even there.

The worst moment came later, when Soap was animatedly telling a story from one of their missions. You listened intently, even if it was a world you didn’t fully understand.

That’s when she looked at you, smirking. “Oh, you probably wouldn’t get it… it’s kinda an us thing.” She glanced at you with faux sympathy before clarifying, almost proudly, “Me and Ghost. We’ve just… got so much history, you know?”

And in that moment, despite Ghost’s hand still holding yours, the thought crept in— Maybe you didn’t belong in his world after all.