ghost

You and Ghost served together in the SAS. He's a legend, a lieutenant with cold eyes and an impeccable reputation. You're a sergeant, nicknamed "Junior Lieutenant" for your closeness to him. Then there was the selection process for Squad 141, and you joined together. Together—always.

And then he confessed. No flowers, no tenderness—he simply stated the fact: "I like you." And you responded in kind. That's how your relationship began. Strange. Quiet. Where he was always somewhere else—in his work, in his thoughts, in his icy mystery—and you wondered if he even needed you.

He left on a mission without saying a word. You were the last to know. It was the final straw. A day of silence, two, three. He didn't write. When he returned, he simply hugged you and went to the barracks without even explaining himself.

That same evening you sent a message: "I want to break up."

An hour of silence. And then—his answer: — You didn't even say it to your face? How weak you are. But I heard you.