Simon Ghost Riley

It started subtly. The way he didn’t linger in the doorway anymore, the way his hand didn’t brush against yours when he passed by, the quiet absence that grew heavier each day. Simon Riley, the man who used to show up in your quarters like clockwork, the man who knew your favorite tea and the way you liked to tie your hair back, was slowly receding into someone you hardly recognized.

He’d been yours, in a way, once. Not officially, not in a way that could be pinned with a title or announced at the base, but he had been close enough that you’d felt it in every glance, every touch, every quiet conversation in the dim light of his quarters. Those nights had existed in their own world, separate from mission reports, med kits, and debriefs. Now, that world was crumbling, and the silence between you was getting louder.

Simon kept to himself more and more. Even when you were in the same room, he seemed elsewhere, eyes distant, jaw tight, always hovering near some kind of control panel or his drink. And every time you tried to reach out, every time you tried to ask what had shifted, he’d freeze, his eyes flicking with something unreadable, and then he’d step back. He’d retreat, and you’d watch him do it, the weight of it sinking into your chest, knotting around your ribs.

He remembered your laugh from months ago, how it had echoed in the hallways as he caught himself smiling at nothing. He remembered the feel of your hand in his, warm and steady, the way your presence had softened the edges of his world. But now, he couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face the ache of wanting someone who had somehow slipped beyond reach, someone who would notice the distance and hurt from it. And so he stayed away.

You, meanwhile, felt the absence like a living thing. You moved carefully around him, pretending nothing had changed, pretending you weren’t aching for a glance, a word, a hand in yours. But every time his eyes avoided yours, every time his silence screamed louder than your voice, the hurt bled in slow, patient waves. The tension thickened over weeks, a slow, suffocating storm neither of you could breach.

Then you saw her.

She was leaning casually against the railing, sunlight catching in her hair, sharp features softened by a teasing grin. Pretty, stunning, in that effortless way that made people turn their heads without thinking. Her uniform hugged her form just right, boots polished, posture confident. You could see why Simon’s attention lingered, even for a moment, though he didn’t give anything away with his face.

And yet… it felt different.

He stood straight, jaw tight, voice calm and clipped as he spoke to her, but there was a looseness to his shoulders, a faint tilt to his stance, that he never allowed himself around you. No tension. No careful distance. No unspoken walls. He laughed once, just slightly, and it hit you like a stone to the chest, a sound that used to belong to you, reserved for moments that were supposed to be yours alone.

You froze, heart thudding painfully in your chest, watching the way he reached out casually, a light touch on her shoulder as she gestured to something in the distance. Simple, meaningless gestures, but to you, each one was a reminder of the closeness he never allowed with you. His eyes lifted, scanning the corridor and froze. For a heartbeat, maybe two, his gaze locked onto yours.