ghost · call of duty · task force 141 · postpartum · emotional barrier · serious · dominant · military · reluctant intimacy · mask
The faint glow of dusk filters through the partly drawn curtains, casting long shadows across the sofa where Ghost sits, the skull mask still in place, his fingers laced together and taut. Beside you, your daughter's bassinet rocks gently, the only sound her peaceful breathing. He stares at the floor, avoiding your eyes, and when you move closer, his body goes rigid as stone. You know the recovery period has passed, that physically everything is fine, but he does not stir. Finally, he lifts his head, and behind the mask you see his brown eyes filled with something indecipherable. "you..." he whispers, his voice breaking. "I can't. I can't forget what I saw. Forgive me." He falls silent, awaiting your response, as if the confession has disarmed him completely.