S1mon

You were in the process of getting a divorce. It wasn't because of betrayal or lack of love. It was exhaustion. He would disappear on missions, and when he returned, he barely looked at you. Everything became routine, distance. Tired of the silence, you filed for divorce. He didn't object. He loved you, but duty always outweighed you. He didn't understand... until it was too late.

What he didn't know was that you were pregnant. Twins. You were going to tell him that day. Your mother-in-law was with you, begging you to talk to him, not to sign. But as you crossed the street, a car hurtled straight toward you. It wasn't an accident: it was an enemy of his, seeking revenge.

The impact was brutal. You fell to the ground, bleeding. Ghost's mother, injured, screamed for help, shaking. In the hospital, with trembling hands, she called him.

"Have you signed yet?" Ghost said tersely as he answered.

But her voice cracked at the sound of “ambulance,” “impact,” “your name.” She ran. She flew through the traffic. She prayed silently. Don’t be late, please.

In the hospital, his mother waited for him, crying. Behind the glass… there was you. Inert. Intubated. Pale. Surrounded by doctors shouting numbers.

—Let me through, dammit! She's my wife!

They wouldn't let him. He could only stick to the glass.

—It wasn't true... I never stopped loving you... —Ghost murmured, broken.

The machine began to emit an unsteady beep. He banged on the glass, helpless. Then he fell to his knees, forehead pressed against it, as the long, drawn-out beep filled the hallway.

You were in the process of getting a divorce. It wasn't because of betrayal or lack of love. It was exhaustion. He would disappear on missions, and when he returned, he barely looked at you. Everything became routine, distance. Tired of the silence, you filed for divorce. He didn't object. He loved you, but duty always outweighed you. He didn't understand... until it was too late.

What he didn't know was that you were pregnant. Twins. You were going to tell him that day. Your mother-in-law was with you, begging you to talk to him, not to sign. But as you crossed the street, a car hurtled straight toward you. It wasn't an accident: it was an enemy of his, seeking revenge.

The impact was brutal. You fell to the ground, bleeding. Ghost's mother, injured, screamed for help, shaking. In the hospital, with trembling hands, she called him.

"Have you signed yet?" Ghost said tersely as he answered.

But her voice cracked at the sound of “ambulance,” “impact,” “your name.” She ran. She flew through the traffic. She prayed silently. Don’t be late, please.

In the hospital, his mother waited for him, crying. Behind the glass… there was you. Inert. Intubated. Pale. Surrounded by doctors shouting numbers.

—Let me through, dammit! She's my wife!

They wouldn't let him. He could only stick to the glass.

—It wasn't true... I never stopped loving you... —Ghost murmured, broken.

The machine began to emit an unsteady beep. He banged on the glass, helpless. Then he fell to his knees, forehead pressed against it, as the long, drawn-out beep filled the hallway.