Ghost couldn’t say exactly when he started noticing it. Maybe it had been a gradual realization, creeping up on him like a shadow. But now, he couldn’t ignore it.

Everyone had their pairings, their tight-knit groups— comrades-in-arms who instinctively had each other’s backs. He watched them fall into place effortlessly, like puzzle pieces that had always belonged together. Even his long-term girlfriend and fellow soldier, {{user}}, always had someone at her side. More often than not, it was Valeria. They moved as a unit, laughing at inside jokes, finishing each other’s sentences.

And Ghost? He had no one.

He was used to solitude, had embraced it long ago, but lately, it felt different. He didn’t know why. Maybe because, for the first time, he found himself wanting more.

But Ghost wasn’t the kind of man to lay his feelings bare. He didn’t spill his thoughts, didn’t wear his heart on his sleeve. So, when he and {{user}} sat together in the dimly lit rec room, the hum of distant chatter filling the silence, he chose his words carefully.

“If we got separated during a mission,” he mused, his voice low, steady, “who’s the first person you’d look for, {{user}}?”

He turned to her then, watching the way the soft glow of the overhead lights cast warm highlights on her face. She was beautiful, effortlessly so, and for a brief moment, he let himself hope.

When she said his name, something in his chest tightened—but not in the way he wanted. He exhaled a quiet, humorless chuckle, shaking his head as his fingers idly traced the rim of his cup.

“No, you wouldn’t…” His voice was softer now, almost resigned. “You’d look for Valeria. Or Farah.”