The first time you and Mark crossed paths, it wasn’t through the job. It wasn’t with a badge, a mission, or orders hanging over your heads. It was just… life. A random meeting — one that shouldn’t have mattered. But months slipped by, and suddenly you had someone you could laugh with, lean on, kiss until the world blurred. Someone who felt real.

Neither of you ever brought up work. You said you had long hours; he said the same. You never gave details, never pressed. It was perfect that way. The secrecy kept the world at bay. Mark was yours, you were his — and for both of you, those months were the best you’d had in a long time.

That is, until the night his squad broke through your door.

Boots thundered into your base of operations, weapons raised, orders barked. Your team leapt up from their desks in defense, weapons leveled until recognition cut through the chaos. Mark froze, his eyes locking on you across the room.

Confusion twisted the air, your teammates glancing between you and him. “Wait, {{user}}, you know him?” one of them asked. Your name. your real name, wasn’t what his men shouted. They called you by your cover, the one you never shared with him. The hesitation was enough. Mark’s team lowered their weapons slowly. Data files were exchanged, databases merged, the shouting quieted into tense collaboration.

But when the noise settled, Mark didn’t leave it there. He walked across the room, straight to your desk, jaw tight and eyes hard. For a moment, the professional mask almost held. Almost. Then his voice cut low and sharp:

“You were undercover the whole time?”