Chapter Text
You grinned, hands shaking slightly with excitement as you got ready to announce to your husband the incredible news you had received a few days ago. Your smile was shy and nervous, but you couldn’t stop it from eating at your face no matter how much you bit your lip.
Ghost was coming home any time soon, and you sat down on one of the chairs at the dinner table, where you had prepared a feast fit for a king.
You were so giddy, hand pressing tightly over the box in your hand, impatiently waiting for his return.
Life was wonderful, in a way it had never before. Ghost was no longer a soldier, having retired after marrying you, saying he wanted to settle down with you.
Life was wonderful. You were married to the man of your dreams, a man who not only loved you and treated you like royalty, but had also been ready to retire for you, knowing how much you hated knowing he could get hurt at any moment.
Only a few more minutes now, until he came. You could already hear the engine from his car in the driveway.
Your leg was bouncing, your smile threatening to break open your face.
You wanted to scream in delight. It had been so hard to keep this a secret from him for the past few days, but you had wanted this to be perfect. It took you days to get everything ready. The food, the lights, cleaning everything, you couldn’t stay in place.
How wonderful.
You had the best husband in the world. You had the house of your dreams. Your husband retired from the military to stay safe for you, because he wanted to stay as long as possible with you.
Seconds seemed to pass even slower as you heard his steps outside the door. A hand on the door handle, keys rattling.
Ghost was home. Your husband was home.
You had to physically restrain yourself from jumping at the door.
You can’t. You do it anyway, the moment he opens the door.
“My love,” you started, excitedly, eyes bright and happy, the small box still in your hand, hidden behind your back. You wrap an around his neck, almost jumping in joy.
But your smile fell, once you took in his body posture, his face expression, his closed off eyes.
His mask. That he had stopped wearing ever since he retired. But now it was back on his face and something rotting and foul wedged it’s way between your throat, your face going slack.
You didn’t know what was happening, but you knew you weren’t going to like this.
You think back to all the preparations you had made behind you, and you suddenly want to tell Ghost to close his eyes while you destroy everything.
You were so fucking stupid.
You took a step back from Ghost, as if you’d been slapped.
He looked at you, his eyes unusually cold, the way they always were when he braced himself against a hit, against hurt. Against anything bad.
“No,” you said, your voice strong despite the shaking in your hands. You didn’t even know what you were saying no to. You just knew that whatever it was, you didn’t want it. “I refuse,” you said.
You knew Ghost by now. It’s been almost a decade, now. You knew him like the back of your hand.
His eyes imperceptibly softened, dropping at the edges.
You knew he was already dead set on whatever he had decided to do.
“I’m sorry, love,” he whispered.
Ghost never whispered.
Your grip over the box tightened, your flesh going white and strained.
“I hate you,” you said.
You didn’t. Of course you didn’t. You loved Ghost with everything you had. Hating him would be like… you didn’t know. You couldn’t ever imagine hating him.
“[Name]…” he plead softly, reaching for you.
You took another step back.
“No. Don’t. Don’t do this to me. I hate you,” you said, panicked and scared and terrified of what he was going to tell you.
“I’m sorry. I… I have to go for a mission.”
Everything went silent, save for the beat of your heart, loud and slow and painful, drowning your ears.
“You liar!” Hot tears burned your eyes as you blinked them away. “I hate you! I trusted you!”
Something in Ghost’s eyes broke. “Please don’t say that, my love.”
You ignored him. “For how long?” You asked instead, trying to control the tremor in your voice.
“One year, if all goes according to plan. More, if there’s any complications.”
There were always complications in his missions.
You took another step back, the grip on the box loosening but not yet dropping it. Ghost looked at you moving away from him and he felt something in his chest twist and break.
You tried to chuckle lightheartedly. “Oh well, it’s just one year, isn’t it? It would end in the blink of an eye,” you said, fake cheer in your voice dripping like venom.
Ghost looked at you confused, not buying the act. “You’re… okay with that?” He asked tentatively.
You shrugged. “Sure, why not. It’s okay.”
Ghost took a step closer to you, trying to read your eyes. You took another step back.
“Are you sure?”
You rolled your eyes. “Yes! Honestly I’m just a bit sad for you,” you admitted, keeping the eye contact strong and steady, watching for his reaction.
He frowned. He was confused. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you say you’ve always wanted to be present at your child’s birth?” You said.
You knew it was a cruel way of announcing to him that you were pregnant, but you didn’t really care. Your heart was coated in a thick layer of hurt and betrayal. You wanted to hurt him as much as he had hurt you by lying and betraying you.
His eyes went wide. He never showed any emotions this strongly. The realisation had obviously struck him deep and painfully.
You couldn’t even enjoy it, because you were too busy biting back the sobs bubbling in your throat.
“What are you talking about, [name],” he said, and it didn’t even sound like a question. It was an order, muttered slowly and coldly. Like he did when he braced himself for a hit.
“I’m pregnant,” you said, all the joy from these past days evaporating into thin air. You’d been so excited to announce him, now he had stolen that joy from you too.
“Since when did you… know?” He asked.
“Does it matter?” You replied back, harshly.
“Yes,” he replied immediately. “If I’d known, I wouldn’t—“
You interrupted. “I wasn’t a good enough reason to stay?” You said, and you couldn’t believe it.
“No, [name], I didn’t mean it like that,” he uttered softly.
“Stop, stop, stop, please I’m begging you, stop talking,” you pleaded, looking at him, hating the way you looked. Vulnerable, pathetic, close to tears. Unbidden tears slipping treacherously from your eyes. “I hate you so much,” you said, even as your love for him dripped from your voice. “I hate you I hate you I hate you,” you repeated, sounding as though you were trying to convince yourself, trying to force yourself to hate him, so that the betrayal would hurt less, cut less deeply.
“I know,” he cooed softly, hands help placatingly. “I hate myself too.”
Your eyes burned bright. But not with tears. With fury.
“I sure hope you do, Ghost,” you seethed. Your voice was furious and broken. Angry and betrayed. “I sure hope you never stop hating yourself. I hope you never stop feeling guilty for breaking my heart.”
I hope you die in that mission, you were going to say, but stopped yourself at the last second. You didn’t like lying, as much as you wanted to cut him deep.
You cracked. You sobbed, your shoulders shaking, your arms coming up to your stomach, holding onto your unborn child for comfort.
Ghost saw the mouvement. A single tear dropped from his eyes. He still had his arms raised, itching to get closer and hold you and comfort you. But he knew he didn’t have that privilege anymore.
“I hate you,” you sobbed, and it hurt even more than the last time you said it, because your voice sounded so broken it seemed shards of it ran through his heart and pierced mercilessly through his chest and soul.
“I know,” he replied, voice so small you almost couldn’t hear it.
“I was so happy,” you said. “You ruined everything. I was never your first choice, was I? The job always came first. You love me, sure. But you’ve always loved the thrill and the danger more. You love risking your life. It makes you feel alive more than I’ve ever been able to,” you accused, but you weren’t wrong.
Ghost stayed silent. He knew you were right. Ghost had never been made for the white picket fence lifestyle. He had wanted to try for you, but… he couldn’t do it. He loved you more than anything but even you couldn’t assuage the restless itch beneath his skin the way going to the field did. He had tried so hard to make it work. But he couldn’t.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Whatever,” you replied.
It was only then that he took sight of the house behind you. The way everything was pristine clean, the balloons in the air, the soft smell of his favorite dish languidly swimming in the air, the full dressed table.
His heart stopped. He always ruined everything. You looked so happy, so excited. You did all of this. And yet, Ghost still ruined everything, despite remembering full well the expression of pure ecstasy that had bloomed on your face when he had told you he had quite. (And yet, even with that memory burning bright behind his eyelids, he still went behind your back and accepted the mission.)
“I hate you,” you repeated. It was the only thing you allowed yourself to say, too afraid you might break down in tears or even worse if you said something else. “I hate you. And your child’s gonna hate you for not even being here for their birth. And they’re gonna hate their father so much for hurting their mother,” you said defiantly, chin up, face upturned.
Your words cut Ghost deeper than any blade ever could.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated.
He didn’t know what else to say, what he could do, to make this better. He knew, in the back of his mind, that it was hopeless. He had ruined everything, yet again.
“I was so happy,” you said, chin wobbling dangerously. “But not anymore,” you added, laughing mirthlessly.
Ghost hated seeing you cry. And yet he always seemed to make you cry.
The lights from your eyes were gone. (Ghost had always been a black hole.)
Not even a few months later, you learned you lost the baby.
That same day, when you went back home, shoulders shaking and your vision blank and mindless with grief, you found Ghost’s captain waiting for you, his hat in his hands, a solemn expression on his face.