Ghost - Lover

The cold air of the hotel room brushed against my skin even as I clung to the sheet, watching him move with the speed that earned him the name Ghost. His large hands manipulated the black clothing without looking at it, his dark eyes barely grazing my figure before settling on his own blurred reflection.

"I don't understand why you can't stay..." I whispered, my voice cracking at the end. I had already repeated those words hundreds of times, in any corner where we could be alone.

Simon paused for a moment, his fingers gripping the collar of his shirt. He didn't need to look at me to know he was holding back tears.

“You have to understand that I can’t stay… Sofia might get suspicious… and she doesn’t deserve to be humiliated like this,” he said, but his voice lacked conviction. He had said the same thing from the beginning, when he was trying to believe that what we had was a mistake. Neither of us believed that anymore.

I sat on the bed, stroking the soft sheet. I knew his wife was waiting for his return, tending to their home while he battled demons on and off the battlefield. But I also knew that only customs and duties remained between them—she had told me so one night of whiskey and confessions, when their walls had crumbled.

“You say you don’t love her, that what we have is real,” I murmured, a feeling of helplessness in my chest. “But it’s always the same: you promise to tell her the truth… and then you leave, and I’m left here waiting.”

He turned around, and in his eyes I saw the same conflict that was consuming us both.