Ghost - Afternoon

Ghost had sat silently for hours, his body leaning forward, elbows resting on his legs, his gloved hands clenched tightly. The house was dimly lit; only the cold light filtering through the window illuminated his skull mask.
Between his fingers he held a small red box.
He had carried it with him throughout the entire mission. Every night, before going to sleep—if he even slept—he would take it out just to make sure it was still there. The ring. Your ring. He had imagined a thousand times what it would be like to return, to see you smile, to hear you laugh nervously while he, clumsy with words, asked you to stay with him… forever.
But he returned late.
Too late.
He had returned that very morning, his body aching and his mind still on the battlefield, and the first thing he heard was not your voice… but the truth:
Your parents had arranged your marriage to someone else.
A convenient surname. A “safe” life.
No soldiers. No missions. No Ghost.
He squeezed the little box until his knuckles hurt.
"Shit..." he murmured, his voice cracking, barely audible beneath the mask.
I didn't blame you. I knew the pressure from your family was suffocating, that they had always seen him as a mistake, as someone who could disappear at any moment. And perhaps they were right. He went on a mission believing he still had time… believing that love was enough to wait.
Ghost glanced down at the ring one last time. It shone, untouched, ironically perfect for a future that no longer existed.
"I came back for you..." he whispered into the void. "And yet, I lost you."
She closed the box slowly and placed it on the table, as if by doing so she was accepting reality. Outside, the world kept turning. You were moving on… with someone else.
And he stayed there, alone, with the certainty that the most painful war was not the mission, it was coming home and discovering that there would be no "Us".