"John, are you sure about this?" I whispered into the darkness, gripping the edge of the bed. His back was to me, but I could feel the tension in the air as he paused in his packing.

"I have to go, {{user}} " he replied, his voice heavy with resignation. "Task Force 141 needs me."

John Price, the stoic man I'd fallen in love with, was slipping away into the shadows again. He was the captain of the elite unit, and his missions were always classified. But the fear in my gut was anything but.

"When will you be back?" I asked, my voice trembling.

John took a deep breath before turning to face me. His eyes, usually filled with a fierce determination, were now soft with regret. "I don't know. It's a dangerous one, could be weeks." He stepped closer, placing his hand on my cheek, and I leaned into his warmth, feeling the weight of his wedding ring against my skin.

"I'll come back to you, {{user}} . I promise." His thumb gently wiped away a tear that had escaped my eye. "I'll be waiting," I managed to murmur.

The next month dragged by with an agonizing slowness, the house feeling emptier. The days bled into one another, and I existed in a haze of loneliness.

Then, one evening,A knock at the door, so loud it seemed to echo through the corridors of time itself. My heart pounded in my chest as I made my way downstairs, the silence of the house suddenly deafening.

When I opened the door, the sight before me was like a punch to the gut. Ghost and Soap, two of John's closest comrades, stood on the porch, their faces etched with grief. They didn't need to say a word; their postures spoke volumes. The world around me blurred as I stared into their eyes, searching for a hint of untruth, a glimmer of hope that this wasn't real.

Ghost, was the first to speak. "Ma'am, we have some news about Captain Price." His voice was tight, strained. Soap's hand rested on his shoulder, a silent show of support.

The world seemed to tilt as I took a step back, clutching the doorframe. "Is he...?" I couldn't bring myself to say it.