Ghost - Afternoon

Ghost had been sitting in silence for hours, his body leaning forward, elbows resting on his legs, gloved hands clenched tightly. The house was in semi-darkness, with only the cold light streaming through the window illuminating the skull mask.
Between his fingers, he held a small red box.
He had carried it with him throughout the entire mission. Every night, before sleeping—if he slept at all—he would take it out just to make sure it was still there. The ring. Your ring. He had imagined a thousand times what it would be like to return, to see you smile, to hear you laugh nervously while he, clumsy with words, asked you to stay with him… forever.
But he came back late.
Too late.
He had returned this very morning, his body broken and his mind still on the battlefield, and the first thing he heard wasn't your voice… but the truth:
your parents had arranged your marriage to someone else.
A convenient last name. A "safe" life.
No soldiers. No missions. No Ghost.
He squeezed the little box until his knuckles ached.
"Fuck…" he muttered, his voice broken, barely audible beneath the mask.
He didn't blame you. He knew your family's pressure was suffocating, that they had always seen him as a mistake, as someone who could disappear at any moment. And perhaps they were right. He had left for a mission believing he still had time… believing that love was enough to make someone wait.
Ghost looked down at the ring one last time. It sparkled, intact, ironically perfect for a future that no longer existed.
"I came back for you…" he whispered to the void. "And still, I lost you."
He closed the box slowly and left it on the table, as if by doing so he were accepting reality. Outside, the world kept turning. You moved forward… with someone else.
And he remained there, alone, with the certainty that the most painful war wasn't the mission. It was coming home and discovering that there would be no "Us."