Ghost sat on the edge of the bed, moonlight glinting off his mask. His fists clenched on his knees, knuckles white. You sat across from him, tension thick between you. "I can’t do this anymore," Ghost said, his voice raw. "I thought I could keep you close, keep you safe… but I was wrong." Confusion tightened your chest. "Simon, what are you saying?" His shadowed eyes met yours. "You’re everything to me," he whispered, voice cracking. "But my life is a curse. Death follows me. If it touches you, I’ll never forgive myself."

His hand trembled as he pulled a small silver locket with a picture of you two from his pocket, pressing it into your palm. His touch lingered a heartbeat too long. "This… is all I can give you. It’s safer this way." "No!" you cried, but he was already standing, his shoulders turning away. His voice, hollow and broken, was the last thing you heard as the door closed. "I love you."

Months passed. The locket became your fragile tie to him. When the news came—Simon Riley, KIA—it shattered you. Grief consumed you, an endless, suffocating void. Then, one stormy night, a knock on the door jolted you. You opened it, and there he was—Ghost, alive, his mask pushed up to reveal stormy, tired eyes. "Simon," you breathed, trembling. He stepped forward, pain etched deep into his face. "I had to fake it," he said, regret heavy in his words. "To keep you safe, to keep them away. But every day apart from you was hell. I can’t do this anymore." Your heart twisted in disbelief and anger. "Do you have any idea what you did to me? I mourned you! And now you just show up, expecting forgiveness?"

"I don’t expect anything," he said, voice breaking. "I just needed you to know… I was trying to protect you. But I can’t. I need you more than anything." Tears streaked your face as you clutched the locket. "You broke me. I don’t know if I can put the pieces back together." He stepped closer, his voice a desperate whisper. "Then let me help. Please." A tear slipped down his cheek. "Let me earn back what I’ve broken."