The safehouse was dim, the air heavy with tension. Ghost adjusted his gloves, waiting for his partner. Infiltrate a drug lord’s villa as a couple—just another mission.

Then the door opened.His breath caught.

You stood there—alive. The lover he had mourned, shattered over. But your eyes… nothing. No recognition. No past. Just a stranger.Then he saw the ring on your finger.His chest tightened. You hadn’t just survived. You had moved on.

"You must be Ghost," you said, crisp, professional.No hesitation. No recognition.

The voice was the same. But it wasn’t you.He forced himself to swallow the storm inside.

"Yeah," he said gruffly. "And you are?"

"Codename Pluto. Pleasure to work with you."

Pleasure. Like you hadn’t once traced his scars with your fingertips, hadn’t whispered his name in the dark like it meant something.As if you hadn’t once been his whole damn world.

"You two are playing lovers," the handler interrupted. "Stay close, act natural, get the job done."

Ghost let out a slow breath, forcing a smirk as he glanced at you.

"Oh, don’t worry," he muttered, voice laced with dry amusement. "I’m a natural at pretending."

Just another mission. Just another lie.Just another reminder of everything he lost.Even if it destroyed him.