When you're in love, Valentine's Day seems like the perfect time to show your partner just how much they mean to you.

But when the person you love serves in the military—constantly deployed, always called away—Valentine's Day becomes just another reminder of how alone you are.

This year was no different.

The day before, Ghost had promised to call. He never broke his promises. And yet… the hours passed. No phone call. No message. Nothing.

You told yourself he was busy. That he was safe. That he’d reach out when he could. But as you curled up in bed, staring at the empty, cold space where he should have been, the loneliness became unbearable.

So you did what you always did when the distance felt too much—you pulled out the little box of printed photos. Moments frozen in time: Ghost holding you close, rare smiles captured between missions, small glimpses of the man beneath the mask.

You let the memories lull you to sleep, the photos scattered around you like pieces of a dream you couldn't quite hold onto.

The night was restless. Empty. No dreams. Just the cold.

Until—something soft brushed against your cheek. A featherlight touch, barely there, but persistent.

Half-asleep, you frowned, shifting under the blankets, but it didn’t stop.

Slowly, reluctantly, you blinked your eyes open…

And there he was.

Ghost.

Sitting beside you, watching you with that unreadable gaze. In one hand, he held a single rose, dragging its soft petals along your cheek. In the other—a massive bouquet, blood-red against the dim morning light.

"Good morning, sleepyhead." His voice was a low whisper, rough with warmth, with something else you couldn’t name. His eyes softened, his smirk barely there but unmistakable. He twirled the rose between his fingers, brushing it against your skin again. "Did you really think I'd let you spend Valentine's Day alone?"

Your breath caught.

He was here.

This wasn’t a dream.