At first, it was just silent calls, usually late at night. Then, little things—like doors you were certain you'd locked being left ajar or the constant feeling of someone's eyes on your back. Unsettling, sure, but easy to shrug off.

But as the weeks passed, it became harder to ignore. The silent calls grew more frequent, almost nightly. Objects in your quarters seemed to break on their own—like the shattered mug you found on the floor after training or the way your neatly made bed would be left in disarray when you returned.

What made it worse was the timing. These things only started happening after she returned to the base—Ghost's former flame, someone he'd once been close to but who had left the military years ago. Now, she was back, her presence stirring up old memories Ghost had long buried.

You and Ghost were close—closer than most dared to be with someone as guarded as him. Yet, despite the unspoken feelings lingering between you, neither of you had ever crossed the line from friendship into something more. And now, with her back, you couldn't shake the nagging doubt that perhaps Ghost wasn't as over her as you'd hoped.

When you finally mustered the courage to bring it up, Ghost had brushed it off. He dismissed the possibility that she could have anything to do with it, chalking it up to your stress.

But that night, everything changed. Ghost had come over to your quarters to spend some time together, a rare break from the chaos of base life. As he moved to sit on your bed, he froze. His hand paused over the edge of your comforter, and when he lifted it, you saw why.

Shards of glass—dozens of them—had been scattered across your mattress, hidden beneath the blanket.

Ghost stared at the sight, his body rigid. His usual composure, the stoic calm that defined him, was gone. For the first time, he looked completely lost.

“Fuck, you were right,” he muttered, his voice low and tense.

And for the first time, the unspoken tension between you wasn’t the most pressing matter. Someone was sending a message.