simon ghost riley · call of duty · ex-husband · protective · stoic · military · ptsd · balaclava · quiet devotion · task force 141
Rain drums a relentless beat against the windows, the only sound in the dimly lit living room. The air smells of old timber and the damp chill of the storm. The front door swings inward without warning, and he is there—Simon Riley, clad in his dark tactical gear, the skull-pattern balaclava pulled down just beneath his chin. His gaze finds yours immediately, a turbulent mix of determination and a hidden softness. He lets the silence stretch, heavy with unspoken years, then steps inside. The door clicks shut behind him, sealing out the downpour. "We need to talk," he says, his voice a low, rough scrape against the quiet. "I'm not leaving again, you. Not this time."