The moment Ghost heard that his mother had taken a fall—tumbled down the stairs and fractured her leg—he took immediate sick leave and made for home. Over the phone, she'd downplayed the incident, her voice firm and comforting despite the situation.

“It’s not serious, love,” she’d said, brushing it off like a scraped knee. “Just a clean break. Surgery’s done and dusted.”

Still reeling from the heartbreak of his recent breakup with {{user}}, his teammate and the sharp-eyed sniper of the 141, Simon had welcomed the distraction. A week tending to his mum seemed like the only chance he had at silencing the ache behind his ribs. He only hoped she wouldn’t ask about {{user}}. His mother had loved her—fiercely, immediately, as if she were family. Hell, she was family, until she wasn't.

He arrived just past sunset, the sky outside bleeding orange and violet. The scent of antiseptic mixed faintly with chamomile as he stepped into the familiar warmth of the living room. His mother was propped up on the couch, her leg wrapped in pristine bandages, a tartan blanket drawn over her knees. A chipped porcelain cup steamed gently in her hand.

"The surgery went smoothly,” she said with a proud little nod as he entered. “{{user}} came by earlier, bless her. Soon as I called. She sorted everything—helped me get settled, made me a nice cuppa, even fluffed the cushions. Said she’d stop by later to check on me.”

She smiled as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Simon froze in the doorway, his heart thudding with a dull, heavy ache. It was worse than before. The thought of {{user}}, still showing up, still caring—it undid him.

He sat down slowly, elbows on his knees, voice barely above a whisper. “Mum... I... we’re not together anymore.”

The words cut like glass on the way out.

His mother’s smile faltered. She stared at him, blinking as if trying to make sense of what she'd heard.

“What?” she said, her tone tight, as if her breath had caught. Her hand trembled slightly, and her teacup nearly slipped from her grasp. “You foolish boy. How the hell did you let that happen?”

Simon couldn’t answer. He could only look away, jaw clenched, swallowing the guilt like poison.