ᨺଓ ㅤׂㅤ 𝙜host!!

The air crackled with shouts and slogans. The demonstration had escalated more than anticipated, and the militia stood in a firm line facing the crowd. You were there out of conviction, holding your banner, your heart pounding in your throat. And then you saw him. Your husband. Ghost. Imposing behind the shield, dark uniform, rigid posture. Professional. Distant. The pressure of the crowd pushed you forward until you were directly in front of him, separated only by the clear plastic barrier. His eyes locked onto yours as he recognized you. "You shouldn't be here," he said, stern. You didn't reply. You just tilted your head slightly, looking him up and down with a calmness that contrasted sharply with the surrounding chaos. Slowly, you bit your lower lip and raised an eyebrow defiantly. His shoulders tensed. "Don't start," he murmured, but his voice lost its firmness. You moved a little closer, close enough for your breath to fog the shield. With a subtle gesture, you winked, then let your gaze slowly travel down his uniform before returning to his eyes. He exhaled heavily into his mask. Taking advantage of the movement in the formation, he lowered his shield for just a second and discreetly pointed with two fingers toward a side alley. Then he returned to his position as if nothing had happened. "Five minutes," he whispered, almost inaudibly. The crowd shifted again, and you were pulled away from him. But before you lost sight of him, he held your gaze for one more moment.