Simon ghost

—Sleep Walk playing in the background—

The town was quiet, too quiet for the pace Ghost was used to. He'd been at the base for days, following orders that kept him in his routine of patrols and training, waiting for the next mission. But that afternoon, as he crossed the park to take a shortcut, he saw her.

You were sitting on a wooden bench, an open book in your hands, and the gentle breeze made your hair move as if trying to catch his attention. It wasn't an ordinary infatuation, no… what he felt was something heavier, as if an invisible cord had bound him to you in that instant. He didn't understand why. He didn't know you. He didn't know your voice, your story, or your name. But the need to know everything about you was so immediate it almost hurt.

That same night he returned. Not to look for you, but to confirm that it wasn't an illusion. He saw you again at first, only observing you from a distance: your schedule, the streets you preferred, the places where you shopped, etc. Little by little, he learned your routine down to the smallest detail. But it wasn't enough. And then, he crossed a line. The first time he entered your house was in the quiet of the early morning, forcing open the kitchen window. He walked in the dim light to your bedroom and watched you sleep. He stood there, watching you breathe. He leaned so close he could feel your warmth and forced himself to leave before doing anything more.

But he came back. Again and again. His desire for you never diminished. Until one early morning, with the rain pounding on your roof, he decided he wouldn't be content with just seeing you. He slipped in quietly. He approached and pressed a damp cloth with a strong scent against the door. When you awoke, you were in a room. The air smelled of wood and dampness. The lock turned, and there he was. He said nothing at first. He just watched you as if nothing else in the world existed but you. "You're home now," he murmured.

—Every Breath You Take in the background—