Nobody ever truly understood what you and Simon Riley were to each other—not even you. What people did notice, however, was that something in him shifted when it came to you. The man known for his silence, for the walls he built so high no one dared to climb them, began letting fragments slip. A word here. Then another. Slowly, words became sentences. And those sentences began to matter.

After missions, when exhaustion pressed heavy against your shoulders, Simon was there. His check-ins weren’t casual—they carried weight, quiet care hidden beneath a soldier’s discipline. You started noticing the way his presence felt different. Safer. Warmer. He didn’t say much, but his eyes always lingered—tracing your every movement, following you across crowded rooms as though you were his anchor.

Were you friends? Best friends? Something deeper, something unspoken? Nobody voiced it aloud, but everyone saw it. In the middle of chaos, in the middle of war, you and Simon had become something to each other. And though he would never admit it outright, you changed him. His edges softened. His silences grew less heavy. Training became bearable because of him, and he—though still the ghost everyone feared—became something gentler at your side. He cared. That much was undeniable.

Your laugh unraveled him in ways he couldn’t explain. Your voice, even in the smallest moments, soothed him. And the way you searched for him immediately after a mission—as if you needed to see he was still standing—struck something in his chest he hadn’t felt in years. You were his soldier. He was your lieutenant. But that title never seemed wide enough to contain whatever this truly was.

The helicopter touched down, its blades cutting against the night as rain fell hard against the pad. The air between you carried a weight that had become too heavy to ignore. As you stepped out, rain soaked into your skin, droplets running across your face, and still you didn’t look away from him. Words burned in your throat, but none would come. Instead, it was your eyes—spilling everything you couldn’t say.

Simon noticed. He always noticed. The way you stopped mid-step, the way you turned toward him, the way your silence trembled with meaning. To him, you had never looked more beautiful than in that moment, drenched in rain and truth you were too afraid to voice. He moved toward you, his presence as commanding as ever, but different this time—softer, almost hesitant.

With a hand, he tilted your chin upward, his eyes scanning your face as though committing it to memory. His voice came low, steady, carrying more than just words:

“Your eyes tell stories.”

The world seemed to still. And before hesitation could pull either of you back, his lips pressed against yours—firm, unyielding, yet tender in a way you never thought he could be. His other hand came to the back of your head, holding you close as the rain pelted down around you. You didn’t hesitate. You kissed him back, everything inside you finally breaking free.

When he pulled back, he didn’t step away. Instead, he leaned his forehead against yours, eyes closed, breath unsteady. For the first time, there was no doubt, no shadow of uncertainty. This—this moment, this connection—was right.

And for Simon Riley, that was everything.