The engagement ring on your hand had started to feel heavier with each passing day. Simon’s work was swallowing him whole — late nights, half-truths about missions, the constant shadow of danger that followed him everywhere. It bled into your relationship, leaving you with more silence than conversations, more distance than closeness.

Tonight, it boiled over. The two of you stood in the living room, voices raised then broken, neither able to find the right words. For once, Simon didn’t storm out or bury himself in his work. Instead, he just… stopped.

His hands dragged down his face as he sat heavily on the edge of the bed, shoulders hunched. He didn’t look like Ghost, didn’t look like the collected, untouchable soldier everyone else saw. He looked human. Fragile.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he muttered, voice rough. He tried to hold it together, but the weight of it all cracked him open. For the first time in years, his eyes stung. A tear slipped down his cheek before he could turn away.

“I can’t—” he exhaled sharply, shaking his head, “I can’t give you up. Not you. You’re the only thing that makes me feel like I’m still bloody human.” His chest rose and fell hard, the words ripping out of him like a confession.

Simon Riley, who had seen hell and never blinked, was crying in front of you. Crying because the thought of you walking away hurt more than any scar, more than any bullet. And in that moment, he realized just how in love he was with you — so much it terrified him, so much it made him feel again.