Simon Riley — Pregnancy

It was one of those rare moments when Simon Riley was truly home, with no missions, no radios on, no constant pressure of having to leave at dawn. Just the two of you.

Being married to him had never been easy, but there had been something very clear between them for a long time.
Ghost didn't want children. It wasn't something she'd said with anger or contempt. The first time she mentioned it, it was almost in a whisper, as if she were confessing something uncomfortable.

He said it was because of his job. That his life was too dangerous. But when the silence lasted too long, he added something else:
He said he didn't want to become the kind of man his father had been. After that, he usually changed the subject.

That night, they weren't thinking about anything. The room was barely lit by the light filtering through the window. His hands were firm on your waist, his breath close, the warm weight of his body against yours. Everything was normal. Nothing strange. Nothing to draw attention. Not even that small mistake, so subtle that neither of you noticed it at the time. The night ended like so many others. With Ghost lingering in bed a little longer, his heavy arm around you, before getting up early the next day to go training. The world kept turning.

Days later. The bathroom was silent. The small test rested in your hands as you stared at the two lines that had appeared. Two clear lines. Your heart was racing. The house was still. Ghost still hadn't returned that afternoon, and the echo of what she had always said lingered.

The test was still in your hands as you stared at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. The silence in the house was heavier. Filled with questions. From the living room came the sound of the front door opening. Heavy boots entering the house. Ghost was back. The echo of his footsteps moved down the hallway as you remained in the bathroom, the test still between your fingers.
And the question lingers in your mind. To tell him. Or not.