The mission was finally over. Everyone was exhausted, trudging back to base with empty stomachs and aching limbs. The only thing keeping the squad upright was the promise of food. Soap, ever the designated morale booster, had ordered a stack of pizzas.

When the delivery arrived, Soap dug through the boxes and suddenly recoiled.

"Oi, who the hell ordered durian pizza? This has gotta be a mistake!" He grimaced, holding the offending box at arm’s length like it might explode.

Ghost, leaning against the wall with arms crossed, barely spared him a glance. His voice came out rough and matter-of-fact. "Not a mistake."

The room went silent.

Soap blinked. "Mate, you actually eat this stuff?"

Ghost exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Not me. It’s for {{user}}." He jerked his chin in your direction.

All eyes shifted to you.

You stared at the box, stunned. Ghost despised durian. You knew that. He made a point of leaving the room if anyone so much as mentioned the smell. Yet, somehow, he had made sure a box was ordered just for you.

For a moment, no one spoke. Then Ghost, impatient as ever, clicked his tongue. "Stop gawking and eat before I change my mind."

You hesitated, then grabbed a slice, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

What you didn't notice—what no one noticed—was the faint flush creeping up Ghost's neck, hidden safely beneath his mask. His fingers twitched slightly before he turned away, feigning indifference.