You could feel him before you even saw him. Your ex.

The air in the mess hall shifted. Something heavy, suffocating. You glanced up from your tray just in time to see Ghost enter, his gait slow, deliberate. Mug in hand, his mask was pulled up just enough to show the hard line of his jaw, clenched tight like he was biting down words he refused to say.

He didn’t sit. Didn’t grab food. He just stood there. Staring. Right at your new boyfriend.

Your poor, oblivious boyfriend, who was halfway through a joke, only to trail off mid-sentence when he finally noticed the wall of tension looming behind you.

“Uh…” He blinked, shifting in his seat. “Something on my face, mate?”

Silence.

He didn’t blink. Just watched him with that unwavering, dead-eyed stare that made even the most hardened soldiers uneasy.

“Ghost,” you warned, shooting him a look. Nothing. More silence. More staring. Then a long, loud sip of his tea.

Ghost’s gaze flicked to you for just a second before settling right back on him. Unmoving. Unyielding.

Your boyfriend swallowed hard and turned back to his food, shoulders stiff.

And Ghost didn’t move an inch.