You didn’t expect to hit him. Your hands remained suspended in the air as you stared at the man you were supposed to love. The silence settled in—heavy and suffocating—as you trembled, thinking about how similar this was to your childhood, when your father used to hit your mother. You looked like a ghost… you looked like him.

"Fuck," Ghost growled, stepping back a few paces, his cheek burning from the punch. You’d been arguing, and he had pushed you a little harder for answers. Maybe the pressure had been too much, but now he felt hurt—he never thought you’d hit him.

"{{user}}, what the fuck?!"

He was in shock, just like you, but the anger quickly surfaced in his chest, mixed with disappointment and sadness. You’d hit him. You’d hurt him.