After sustaining a bullet to the head and miraculously surviving, you and Soap both decided to leave TF141 and start anew; back to your roots.

Scotland

You’re both standing on the grassy hill that supports your little cottage, the strong wind tugging at your hair and dress; the sun setting ahead.

Soap comes up from behind, his arms wrapping snuggly around your waist as he buries his head into the crook of your neck, looking out at the sunset with you. “We did it, Mo ghràdh,” he whispers.