The argument had started over something small - intel distribution, of all things - but it had quickly spiraled into something far more personal.

“You never listen, Simon,” you snapped, voice sharp with frustration. “You just bark orders and expect everyone to fall in line without question.”

“And maybe if you didn’t question every damn thing, we’d get the job done faster,” he shot back, stepping closer. His voice was cold, but there was a dangerous edge to it, barely restrained.

You stood your ground, chest heaving. “I’ve fought alongside you for years, and still, you treat me like I’m some damned rookie.”

His jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. The silence stretched, thick with tension.

“Well?” you demanded, voice trembling. “Say something, Simon.”

“You’re reading too much into it,” he muttered, turning slightly as if to walk away.

But that was the final straw.

“No, you’re just a coward,” you bit out, venom lacing every word. “You push people away because God forbid you actually feel something for anyone. It’s pathetic.”

He froze.

The air between you turned electric, the weight of your words lingering like a heavy fog. For a moment, you thought he might just leave. That he would shove everything down, like he always did, and walk away.

But then he turned back, eyes blazing.

“You think I don’t feel anything?” he snarled, stepping so close that you could feel the heat radiating from him. “You think I don’t care?”

You blinked, caught off guard by the raw emotion in his voice.

“I care more than I should,” he admitted, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “And it’s driving me out of my goddamn mind.”

Your breath caught in your throat, heart racing as his words sank in. For once, Simon Riley - the man who never revealed anything - stood before you, exposed.