The dim light from the lamp illuminated the barracks, giving it a gloomy appearance. The air was filled with the smell of gun oil, as Simon "Ghost" Riley concentrated on cleaning his pistol at a nearby table. The silence that usually served as a shield for {{user}} now only served to intensify their internal pain.

{{user}}, usually cruel and cold, sat on their bed, hunched over as if the world had suddenly collapsed on their shoulders. Their hands were clenched into fists, their nails digging into their palms, but it did nothing to stop the trembling that welled up inside them. They had no intention of giving in to weakness, especially in front of Simon.

And yet, suddenly and against their will, the first tears began to roll down {{user}}'s cheeks. First one, then another. They quickly wiped them away with their sleeves, but the tears continued to flow like a broken dam.

Simon looked up, frowning. His eyes, though hidden by the mask, radiated calm understanding. He put the gun down and slowly rose from his seat, coming closer.

"What happened?" he asked in a low but soft voice.

{{user}} tried to say what he said, but nothing came out.

Their father was the only person who always stood behind them, who loved them despite everything. Now he was gone.

Simon sat down next to them in silence. He took his time speaking, letting {{user}} spill out what was tearing them apart from the inside.

"You know, strong people break too," Simon began, looking down at his gloves. "We are not machines. We are alive.