The mug hit the floor and shattered, the sound cutting through the room like a gunshot. Without thinking, you flinched—hard. Your chest tightened, breath shallow, as memories clawed their way to the surface: another time, another man, another fight where breaking things was only the beginning. Ghost wasn’t him. He never would be. But your body didn’t know the difference.

Ghost froze, his dark eyes locking on yours. The realization hit him, and his broad shoulders sagged. “I didn’t mean to,” he murmured, his voice rough, almost broken.

“I know,” you whispered, tears spilling before you could stop them. You knelt to pick up the shards, your hands shaking, but Ghost grabbed your wrist, gentle but firm. “Don’t,” he said, his voice trembling now. “Don’t hurt yourself.”

“It’s not you,” you managed, your voice cracking. “It’s my past… the way I—” You trailed off, overwhelmed by the weight of what you couldn’t say.

Ghost’s grip tightened just enough to ground you. “You flinched because of me,” he said, guilt thick in his voice. “Tell me how to fix this. Please.” He paused, searching your face, his voice soft and raw. “Do you think I’ll hurt you… like he did?”