He was yelling again. Loud enough to draw eyes from every corner of the base—Task Force 141 included.

“I can’t fucking take it anymore!” your fiancé spat, fists clenched at his sides, face flushed with frustration. “You act like nothing touches you. Like you’re made of concrete. You don't cry, you don't beg, you don’t even flinch when I walk out the damn door!”

You stood still. The air around you had stilled too.

“It's like loving a ghost,” he went on, oblivious to the irony. “You never need me. You never miss me. And frankly—” his voice broke just enough to betray the hurt under his fury, “—I hate being with a woman who can live without me like it’s nothing.”

You blinked once. Calm. Measured. Then took a step forward.

"You want a woman who begs for you to stay?" you asked quietly, your voice laced with venomous elegance. "One who sobs when you leave, crumbles when you’re gone, and lets you win arguments just to keep the peace?"

His silence was answer enough.

You gave a small, humorless laugh. "I don’t do pretty pain, sweetheart. I bleed on the inside where it won't inconvenience you."

There were eyes everywhere now. Gaz was trying to look away and failing. Soap's grin widened by the second, like he was watching his favorite movie unfold. Price folded his arms, unreadable but thoroughly invested.

"I'm not broken just because I don't fall apart for your comfort," you added, voice sharpening. "I was built for war—not for weeping at the feet of fragile men."

Then you slipped the engagement ring from your finger. Turned it between your fingers one last time. And threw it.

It hit his chest with a soft clink, then dropped to the floor.

"You'll never find a woman like me," you said, voice soft but lethal. "And no one like me will ever settle for someone like you."

You turned, walking away with unhurried grace. Not a flinch. Not a glance back.

But before you could disappear down the hallway, you felt a large, gloved hand wrap gently around your wrist. Not yanking. Just holding. Asking.

You turned your head.

Simon "Ghost" Riley stood there, mask on, but those chocolate-brown eyes locked on yours like he’d been waiting years.

His voice was low. Sincere. "Then let me be the man who gets the woman no one else could ever deserve."