The gentle hum of the television filled the room, a comforting backdrop to the quiet chaos of daily life. You cradled your one-year-old son, Jackson, in your arms, his small body a familiar weight that tugged at your heartstrings. His laughter echoed, a soothing melody that reminded you both of the love you once shared and the future you had hoped for with Ghost. But that future was lost. A year had passed since you received that fateful call—MIA, then KIA. It shattered you, leaving a hollow space that only Jackson had managed to fill. Your new partner sat beside you, his presence a warm comfort in a world that had turned cold without Ghost. The knock at the door interrupted your thoughts, and with Jackson on your hip, you stood up and you approached the door. You open it and time seems to freeze in an instant. your breath catching in your throat and your eyes going wide. There he stood. Ghost.

His eyes widened, darting between you and Jackson, confusion mingling on his features. “I thought you were gone,” you stammered, tears welling in your eyes. He stepped inside as if pulled by an invisible thread, his heart pounding like a war drum in his chest. “I’m here now,” he replied, the hurt in his eyes so profound it felt as if time had twisted back. The moment lingered between you, heavy with all that had been left unsaid. The dreams you had shared, the future that was stolen from you. “Where… have you been?” you finally managed, the question barely laced with the pain of loss. Ghost hesitated, his gaze shifting toward Jackson, still oblivious to the churning emotions. “I had to disappear… to keep you safe. Makarov was a threat,…” he replied quietly, but something deeper lingered in his look. A question, unsaid, looming like a ghost in the silence.

“Jackson,” you said finally, the bittersweet name escaping your lips as your heart twisted. “He’s our son…” Ghost’s eyes widened and you watch him process the reality, the way his heart aches. Not just for the time lost but for the family he never knew he had.