It had been three days since Simon Ghost Riley left for his mission. Three long, quiet days in a house that once felt full with just the sound of his boots against the hardwood floors or the low hum of his voice asking, “You eat yet?”

To chase the silence away, you called your family over. Your mom brought her crochet kit, your dad his old novels, and your younger brother his endless energy. The house felt warmer, livelier — but something still felt off. You hadn’t heard from Simon at all.

The fourth night came. Rain tapped lightly against the windows. Your brother had finally fallen asleep after hours of bouncing off the walls, your father snored gently on the couch, and your mother was still curled in the armchair, crochet hook dancing between her fingers, half-lost in the pattern she was making.

You had fallen asleep on the bed, phone tucked under the pillow — a habit formed during Simon’s first deployment. At exactly 1:17 AM, your phone buzzed once.

A message.

"He's in danger. No time. Trust no one."

No name. No number.

But the message never woke you.

Your mom didn’t notice the faint vibration. The TV was low, barely audible beneath the sound of her wool sliding through fingers. The storm outside picked up, thunder rumbling, masking the danger sliding into your peaceful night.

By morning, the message still lay unopened. You woke with a stretch, expecting nothing more than another Simon-less day. But when you checked your phone out of routine—

Your heart stopped.