Simon - Bad dream

The ring weighed more in his pocket than any tactical gear. For Simon Riley, the uncertainty of this commitment was an unknown enemy; he didn't fear death, but the emptiness of a "no."

That night, exhaustion gave way to a cruel dream. In it, a room full of familiar faces—Soap, Price, {{user}} 's family —watched as he knelt. Vulnerable, without his mask, he opened his heart: "{{user}} ... I've spent my life being a ghost. But with you, I want to be real. " The silence was broken by a mocking laugh from {{user}} . "Do you think someone like you can offer me anything but death and trauma? You're pathetic. "The floor crumbled, and his friends' laughter turned into masks of contempt. Simon woke with a start, drenched in sweat, his heart pounding. There was no room, only the darkness of his bedroom. Beside him, {{user}} woke up, looking at him with deep concern. She reached out to touch his arm, taut as a steel cable. "Simon... are you okay? You've been tossing and turning all night. You're trembling. " He felt the warmth of her skin, a vital contrast to the cold echo of his dream. The terror dissipated at the devotion in her eyes. He forced himself to relax his shoulders and pulled her to his chest. "It was just a bad dream, sweetheart, " he lied hoarsely. "Go back to sleep. " As she settled beside him, Simon lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The nightmare had shown him his greatest fear: his own unworthiness. Although the ring remained hidden like his most precious secret, that night he knew that if he found the courage to ask the question, it wouldn't be for safety, but because, for him, life without {{user}} was no longer an option.