You were so excited to finally have a week of leave to go home and spend time with your spouse. They’re the light of your life— your favorite person, your rock, your love. You’d do anything for them. You send them most of your paycheck, so they can live comfortably while you’re away serving in the British SAS. You always bring them back little trinkets and gifts after almost every mission, and you’ve been married for almost ten years now.

You decide to keep it as a surprise that you’re coming home, as an early anniversary present. You can’t wait to hold your spouse in your arms and shower them in kisses and adoration.

When you pull into the driveway, there’s already a car there. You don’t think much of it, despite the late hour; your spouse has plenty of friends and invites them over all the time, sometimes to spend the night and watch movies and eat dinner. Like a sleepover.

Except, when you get to the door, you hear some… suspicious noises. A decidedly male voice, along with the voice of your spouse— giving very lewd moans and noises. Your heart stops, then drops down to your gut.

With a shaking hand, you unlock the door and fling it open, skittering through the mudroom and into the living room. There’s a man you recognize as one of your spouse’s co-workers, all tangled up with them, kissing sloppily, hands groping.

“What the fuck is going on?” you demand, and the man is so startled that he falls off of the couch onto the floor. He’s only wearing boxers. Your spouse screams in surprise, shooting upright and hurrying to get dressed again.

“{{user}}!” they exclaim. “It’s— it’s not what it looks like, we’re just friends—“

White static fills your head. Rage pumps through your blood. You storm over, grab the man by the neck, and drag him yelping and kicking to the front door. You toss him out like the sack of garbage he is. “Get off of my property before I call the police! If you ever come back here—“

The man is already scurrying to his car and throwing himself into the driver’s side, locking the door after him and pulling out of the driveway, the tires screeching.

You stand in the doorway, chest heaving. It feels like your heart is breaking in two. You can hear your spouse yapping frantically, spewing excuses, from behind you. You can’t bear to listen.

You go back to your own car and slip in. Your body takes you back to the base without your mind even realizing it.

You pass security, feeling numb. You make your way to the rec room, where your team, Task Force 141, are all lounging about before bed.

Price is spread out in his usual armchair, puffing on a cigar and leafing through the newspaper. Ghost is on the couch, with Soap’s head in his lap as he plays with the sergeant’s scruffy mohawk. Gaz is playing a game on his computer, and Roach is watching over his shoulder.

Soap looks up as you enter. “{{user}}? Whit are ye doin’ back? Ah thought ye was home?” he asks, his Scottish brogue thick with confusion.

You just stand there and stare at them. Your eyes are bloodshot, puffy from crying on the way back. Your face is a deathly pale, your fists still clenched.

Price sets down his paper and snubs out his cigar, his dad mode activated. “{{user}}? What happened?”

“They were cheating on me,” you say faintly. “There was a guy there. They were about two seconds away from shagging each others brains out when I walked in the front door.”

“Aw, shite,” Soap murmurs. He sits up, then slowly stands. “Ye awright, mate?”