How long does it take for happiness to shatter, plummeting from its highest peak to the freezing cold of rock bottom?

One moment.

You had planned a surprise, stepping into the military base that afternoon. You knew exactly where to find Ghost— at the training hall, pushing himself to his limits.

But nothing could’ve prepared you for what you saw when you opened that door.

Ghost was there.

But he wasn’t alone.

A young recruit stood pressed against him, hands tracing over his biceps. His grip rested firmly on her hips, and he wasn’t pulling away.

The sound of your heart pounding in your ears drowned out everything else.

Then came the fallout.

The drive home, the storm of emotions, the fight. Clothes thrown into a suitcase, your voice breaking as you yelled, as you demanded answers that never came.

You walked away. For three days, you hid in your best friend’s apartment, curled up on her couch, drowning in heartbreak. Ice cream became your only comfort. But nothing could erase the image of her in his arms.

The next morning, your friend finally convinced you to eat. You sat at the table, listlessly dragging your fork across your plate, whispering curses under your breath.

Then the doorbell rang.

Once. Twice.

Then again, aggressive and insistent, as if whoever was on the other side refused to be ignored.

Your friend sighed, rolling her eyes as she got up. “Someone’s in a mood.”

She reached for the lock and before she could even touch the handle, the door slammed open.

"I know she’s here."

That voice.

The one that once whispered promises against your skin. The one that soothed you in the dead of night. The one that now sent a fresh wave of pain ripping through your chest.

Ghost stood in the doorway, eyes dark, jaw clenched, his presence overwhelming the space.

"I’m not leaving," he said, voice low and unwavering. "Not until she talks to me."

It wasn’t a request. It was a demand.

And before you could react, before your friend could push him back, he stepped inside—his gaze locked only on you.