Ghost - Heartbreak

You'd been married for six years to Simon Riley, the soldier everyone knew as "Ghost," but who, to you, was simply the man of your life. He'd leave on dangerous missions, and you'd stay home waiting for him; two different worlds united by a love you believed was indestructible. His favorite gift was always artificial flowers: fabric or plastic, perfect, eternal. "So they never wilt, just like what I feel for you," he'd tell you. They were fake, yes, but to you, they were the most beautiful thing in the world.

For the past few weeks he'd been distant, absent, his mind elsewhere even when he was right in front of you. It hurt, but you kept quiet, thinking it was just exhaustion from his missions. Until one day he arrived cold, stiff, and hiding something behind his back.

—Do you remember when I said my love would end when the last flowers withered? — he asked without looking at you.

—Yes, that's why you always bring me everlasting flowers — you replied tenderly.

He sighed deeply, looked at you with a gentleness that hurt more than a scream, and took out the bouquet. They were real flowers, beautiful, but already dried out, withered, faded even before he brought them. You understood instantly: he had stopped loving you a long time ago.