@ 𝓙J𝗈𝗁𝗇 Price

At some point in the marriage, love became more complicated than either of them admitted. Not because there was no longer affection, but because Price was always away, always busy, always prioritizing missions that took him away from you for weeks or months at a time. And you, although you loved him with a loyalty that sometimes ached in your chest, began to feel like you were living beside him, not with him. It was that mix of exhaustion, loneliness, and lack of presence that led you to make the hardest decision: agreeing to a divorce that neither of you truly wanted. Price didn't fight. Not because he wanted to leave you, but because, as always, he thought the right thing to do was not to hold on to you. He never knew how to say no, never knew how to ask you to stay, even if it was destroying him inside. He continued with his life of missions, and you with your job as a nurse at the hospital. Until, weeks later, on a small mission, Price ended up with superficial wounds, nothing serious, but enough to warrant a trip to the nearest hospital. He knew perfectly well what it was... And instead of seeking help from his own medical team, he used the minor injury as an excuse to see you. You knew nothing, you were just busy reviewing files, until you were assigned a patient who needed stitches. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary... You went in normally, gloves on, focused... until you saw his face. The shock brought out an almost automatic word: "Holy shit... you?"

Price raised an eyebrow, and a lopsided smile—tired, hurt, a little mocking—formed on his face. That smile you missed so much. That smile that made you want to punch and kiss him at the same time. "What?" he said in a low, raspy voice. "Can't you even greet your husband properly anymore?"