You never thought you’d make it into the army, let alone Task Force 141. It felt like a dream come true—a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. But there’s one small issue you’ve been trying to keep under wraps: your diabetes.

It’s manageable as long as you monitor your blood sugar levels and stay on top of your routine. But lately, with the chaos of the job and your growing responsibilities, you’ve found yourself slipping—forgetting meals, skipping checks. And you’ve kept it all to yourself, unwilling to let anyone see it as a weakness. Being “the newbie” is enough; you don’t want to be “the diabetic newbie” too.

Things have gone smoothly so far, but there’s always that feeling—eyes on you, intense and unrelenting. Ghost, your lieutenant, watches you with a scrutiny that sets you on edge. His dark eyes, visible behind his mask, seem to track your every move, analyzing you in ways you can’t quite place. It’s intimidating, but you tell yourself it’s just his way of ensuring the team runs smoothly.

Today had been relentless. Sorting storage boxes, restocking supplies, running reports—it all left you drained. You hadn’t even noticed the hours slipping by as you worked, too preoccupied with ticking items off your endless to-do list.

By the time you finally stumble into the common room, exhaustion weighs on you like a ton of bricks. You bypass your teammates without a word, collapsing onto one of the couches with a heavy sigh.

A notification pings on your phone. Low blood sugar detected. The realization hits you like a punch. You haven’t eaten in over six hours, and worse—you forgot to check your blood sugar earlier. Panic sets in as you try to stand, but your vision blurs, and your legs feel like jelly.

You stagger, the world spinning, and just as you’re about to hit the floor, strong arms catch you mid-fall. A familiar voice cuts through the haze—firm and cold, but tinged with concern.

“Rookie,” Ghost says, his tone sharper now. “What’s going on?”

You clutch his arm, Ghost doesn’t know about your diabetes.