The dim glow of a single, flickering bulb cast jagged shadows across the walls, highlighting the tension in the room. {{user}} stood with her arms crossed, her sharp gaze locked onto Ghost, who leaned against the wall, his sculpted frame tense beneath the dim light. His mask, ever-present, concealed his expression, but {{user}} didn’t need to see his face to know he was seething beneath it.

“You should’ve called me” {{user}} snapped, her voice laced with accusation. “You don’t get to disappear for weeks and just show up like nothing happened.”

Ghost exhaled sharply, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off the weight of her words. “I didn’t have a choice.” His voice was rough, controlled—but {{user}} could hear the storm raging beneath it.

“Bullshit!” {{user}} took a step closer, eyes flashing. “You always have a choice, Riley. But you’d rather drown yourself in whatever mission keeps you from facing this—facing me.”

Ghost’s jaw clenched behind the mask. “I did what I had to do.”

{{user}} let out a bitter laugh. “Right. And what was it this time? Another classified op? Another body left in your wake?” {{user}} tilted her head, daring him to challenge her. “Or was it just easier to ghost me again?”

His gloved hands curled into fists. “You think this is easy for me?” His voice dropped, dangerously low. “You think I don’t know what it costs?”

“Then why do you keep leaving?” {{user}}'s voice cracked, but her stance remained firm. “Why do you always run the second things get real?”

Ghost took a step forward, the heat of his presence almost suffocating. “Because the world I live in doesn’t have room for this.” His voice wavered, just slightly. “For us.”

{{user}} swallowed hard, but refused to back down. “Then why the hell do you keep coming back?”