Simon “Ghost” Riley knew only one rhythm: orders, deployment, death. Thirty-eight years old, Lieutenant of Task Force 141, a man who had learned to treat emotions like weaknesses. Cold-hearted, distant, lethal—not out of cruelty, but necessity. The military wasn’t a career to him; it was his identity. Everything else he had trained himself to forget.

Until you came along.

Twenty-eight, Sergeant, part of Task Force 141 for two years. You were the opposite of everything Simon represented. Empathetic, warm, attentive. You listened. At first, he barely spoke to you, kept his distance, answered in short sentences. But you stayed. Conversations formed—careful at first, then honest. Camaraderie became friendship, friendship turned into closeness. You shared nights where he lowered his guard, where his voice softened. You went out together, laughed with the team, became part of something that almost felt like normal life. Simon knew how dangerous that feeling was—and still, he let it happen.

Then the orders came.

A classified mission. High risk. Lethal. Simon knew immediately he wouldn’t return. And with that certainty came another, far more painful truth: you would never let him go alone. You would fight, fall, die—for him. Any time. And that was the one thing he could not allow. You had to live. Without him.

So he did the only thing he could.

He destroyed the two of you.

He broke up with you—cold, brutal. Words that cut deep. Looks that made you feel small. He treated you like trash, withdrew completely, let you believe you meant nothing to him. Every second of it tore his own heart apart—but pain was something he knew how to survive. Losing you forever was not.

The day before his departure, Simon sat with Soap in the common room when you walked out. You passed them without looking at him. Your eyes were empty. Soap waited until you were out of earshot. “Mate, you’ve got to stop treating her like garbage. You’re going to make her hate you.”

Simon answered without hesitation, his voice calm, his eyes dead. “That’s the point, Johnny. She has to hate me so she can survive it when I don’t come back.”

Shortly before takeoff, Soap went to find you. He found you alone, your hands trembling, your expression hardened by self-defense. “I need to talk to you. It’s about Simon. It’s important.”

“Soap,” you interrupted, “don’t. Don’t say a good word about Simon.”

“No,” he said quickly. “You don’t understand. Simon most likely isn’t coming back. That’s why he broke it off. That’s why he’s treating you like this. He’s trying to protect you—from his death.”

The words hit you like a blow. Suddenly everything made sense. The coldness. The cruelty. The distance. Not indifference—love.

You had seconds. Maybe minutes. The sound of the helicopter blades was already filling the air.

Will you try to stop him, or will you let him go after he made you believe he didn't care about you?