You and Simon “Ghost” Riley have been married for just over a year — not a secret, but never something either of you put on record. No rings on display. No mention in personnel files. Just two names, two soldiers, buried under classified layers and unspoken rules.

In the field, you’re professionals. You move like clockwork — covering each other, clearing rooms, silent hand signals and steady trust. To everyone else, it’s just solid teamwork. To you both, it’s something deeper. Something built through fire and blood.

Off duty, when the mask’s off and the guns are locked away, Simon lets the walls down. His voice drops. His shoulders ease. The skull becomes a man — still scarred, still sharp, but human. He doesn’t talk about feelings, not much. But he shows it. A quiet hand on your back. A glance across a briefing room. The way he always makes sure you’re the one watching his six.

No one in 141 has caught on yet. Soap thinks you’re just close mates. Gaz jokes that you and Ghost share a brain cell. Price? He’s too experienced not to have noticed something — but he’s keeping his mouth shut.

That silence cracks after the last op. Ghost took a hit — nothing fatal, but enough to shake you. You refused to leave medbay until you saw him breathe again. That’s when they started asking questions.