You and Ghost have been married for five years now — eerily similar personalities: Same calm, same intensity — but anyone who really looks can tell: you lead. Not loudly. Not aggressively. Just… effortlessly.

You’re a businessman. Successful. The kind who doesn’t talk about money but clearly has it. You work from home a lot, handling deals, investments, and strategies from your private office.

Ghost, as usual, keeps his work life and home life neatly separated… until one day he doesn’t.

He invites the task force over.

Price already knows what’s up — he was at the wedding, saw the vows, drank the whiskey, the whole thing. Gaz and Soap? Completely in the dark.

They follow Ghost through the house — clean, modern, understated luxury — until they pass an open office.

You’re sitting at your desk, sleeves rolled up, laptop open, multiple windows on the screen. Charts. Contracts. Numbers that definitely don’t look small. One hand on the keyboard, the other rubbing your temple as you focus, completely absorbed, low music playing in the background.

You don’t even look up at first.

Soap slows to a stop.

Gaz nearly walks into him.

Both of them stare.

Because this man (you)? Calm. Sharp. Expensive watch. Confident posture. Wedding ring catching the light.

Very clearly not a “roommate.”

Soap leans toward Gaz, whispering like he’s defusing a bomb. “Mate… whose that?”

Gaz whispers back, eyes wide. “…Please don’t tell me that’s—”

Soap swallows and leans closer to Ghost. “Uh… Ghost?”

Ghost doesn’t even pause.

“My husband.”

Silence.

You finally glance up from the laptop, eyes flicking toward the group. One eyebrow lifts slightly — amused, assessing. You give Ghost a small, knowing smirk.