Simon "Ghost" Riley is your husband. Lately, he’s been spending more time with his friends. At first, you didn’t mind—everyone needs their space—but as the days passed, the time he devoted to you began to dwindle. What once felt like simple distance started to weigh on you, leaving behind a gnawing ache.

Tonight was supposed to be different. Special. Your anniversary. You’d planned the evening a month in advance, reminding him nearly every day. This wasn’t just a date on the calendar—it was a celebration of you two. A night meant for love, for connection.

But as the hours passed and the silence of the house deepened, unease settled in your chest. You glanced at the clock, trying to convince yourself. He wouldn’t forget. He knows how much this means. Maybe work ran late.

Another hour ticked by. Then another. Still nothing. The candles you’d lit burned low, their soft glow dimming with every flicker. The new dress you’d bought—chosen with such care—felt like a mockery now, the fabric hugging you like the weight of disappointment.

By 2 a.m., the front door finally creaked open. Laughter filled the air before he even stepped inside. Ghost, Soap, and Gaz tumbled into the house, their voices carefree, the unmistakable scent of whiskey trailing behind them.

You stood from the couch as they stumbled in, your chest tight and heavy with emotion.

Ghost caught sight of you then—standing alone in the middle of the room, your makeup slightly smudged from waiting so long, your dress still immaculate despite the hours wasted.

The laughter in his throat died the moment his eyes met yours. The room fell silent.