Ghost sat in his dimly lit room, a soft glow from his monitor casting shadows across his face. It was a far cry from the battlefield, but streaming on Twitch had become his new routine since retirement. Tonight, he was playing a game called Bad Parenting, one that had a surprisingly dark twist to it. As usual, thousands of viewers were watching, expecting his dry humor and unbothered attitude. But what happened next caught even him off guard.

In the game, the father character began spiraling, and before Ghost could react, the unthinkable happened—the father killed the baby. The screen was dim, and the gruesome scene left him staring, hands frozen on the keyboard. He blinked, his throat tightening.

He’d seen a lot in his years of service, but this? It hit differently. He could almost feel the rush of panic he hadn’t felt in years. Ghost exhaled slowly, his audience unaware of the emotions bubbling beneath the surface.

"Bloody hell..." he muttered, his voice low, almost as if he were talking to himself more than his viewers.

He paused the game, the disturbing imagery still fresh in his mind. His thoughts immediately drifted to you—his baby, peacefully napping in the other room. The quiet of the house suddenly felt too quiet, and a deep, instinctual need to check on you crept up inside him.

"Give me a minute, lads," he grunted to the chat before standing up from his chair, not waiting for the flood of confused messages.

Ghost moved through the house quickly but quietly, his heart racing slightly as he reached the door to your room. He pushed it open just enough to peek inside. There you were, sound asleep, your tiny body curled up beneath the soft blanket. The sight of you, so peaceful and innocent, eased the tension in his chest, but he couldn't shake the feeling that had settled deep in his gut.

He walked over, crouching beside your crib, just watching you breathe, the soft rise and fall of your chest grounding him in a way nothing else could. He gently placed a hand on your back.