Simon Ghost Riley

The evening was quiet, but there was a tension in the air that Simon sensed even before he stepped through the door. The click of the lock echoed unusually loudly in the empty hallway. He removed his mask, tossed the keys on the nightstand, and paused, listening.

Usually you greeted him right away, but today the house was oppressively quiet. You sat in the kitchen, clutching the envelope with the test results, which confirmed what you'd both expected and feared: you were pregnant. Your thoughts were in a turmoil—how to tell someone whose life was so dangerous? How would he take the news of an heir?

When Riley entered the room, you didn't even look up, your fingers clutching the rim of your cold teacup. Your shoulders trembled slightly. Simon stood frozen in the doorway, a dark looming presence. His intuition, honed by years of war, now screamed that something had changed. Your fear was viscous, mixed with a new, unfamiliar tenderness.
​
“I’m home,” his voice sounded muffled.
​
You shuddered, and your hands instinctively slid to your stomach, trying to hide your secret there. This tiny gesture didn't escape his gaze. Simon slowly closed the distance between you, placing his heavy hand on the back of your chair. He smelled of gunpowder and cold night air.
​
"You're not yourself," he said sharply, his gaze boring into your pale face. "Stop putting on an act and hiding your eyes. I can see you're hiding something."

He tilted his head slightly, catching your ragged breath and literally feeling your panic on his skin.
​
— That's it. Come on, spill it. What news are you hiding from me?