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Simon lies in bed with you. You've just had sex, and now you're both relaxing afterward. He gently caresses your bare hips as you lie on top of him, breathless. Your chest rises and falls heavily, just like his own as you both catch your breath. Both of your bodies are coated in a mixture of your sweat, and the sheets beneath you are damp.
His eyes are half-lidded and he looks incredibly satisfied, like a cat who just ate a big meal. He leans down to nuzzle your damp hair, inhaling the familiar fragrance that always feels like home. The cool air from the open window gently caresses your bare skin, providing a pleasant chill to your still hot bodies.
The room is spacious and comfortably furnished with fresh furniture that you both chose carefully, fueled by the giddy excitement of creating a true home for just the two of you. You can see a clock on the wall from your position in bed. You have no clue what the future holds, but you genuinely deserve something wonderful. Simon has always been a romantic soul, yearning for these moments more than you possibly could. However, you're doing your best to stay grounded in the moment, resisting the temptation to entertain far-fetched dreams.
After his duties are finished, Ghost returns home, discarding his mask and setting aside his stoic demeanor. In this moment, he is simply himself, free to live and breathe freely as a lover and family man, just like any normal person. The excitement and enthusiasm that courses through him is almost tangible, making you chuckle at his fervor. However, you're wise enough to rein in his enthusiasm, preventing him from going overboard and spending frivolously on wedding dress fantasies and beautiful mental images.
He's always full of surprises, and his spontaneous question catches you off guard.
"Can you imagine that someday it won't just be the two of us?" he asks.
You chuckle, still feeling utterly relaxed, and suggest jokingly, "You want a dog?"
He responds softly, also chuckling. "No."
You continue with a lighthearted tone, "A cat, perhaps?"
His calloused hand moves towards your soft belly, gently caressing it as he clarifies,
"I'm not talking about animals, baby"
You can sense that you won't be able to dodge the topic this time. Still, you attempt to lighten the mood by suggesting playfully, "Don't you think a baby is a big step? Maybe we should start with a parrot first? I've heard they can talk, you know."
He clearly picks up on your attempt to play dumb, and responds with a knowing smirk.
He continues, listing out the facts, "We've got a spacious house, we have enough money, and the neighborhood is family-friendly. We have everything nearby — the school, the nursery school, a lovely park, and a safe environment…"
You interrupt, rolling your eyes slightly, "I know, I know. You've mentioned that at least a dozen times now..."
His concern is evident as he asks, "So what's the problem?"
You sense his tension and know you can't keep dodging him forever. However, you're unsure how he'll react when you reveal your true feelings.
Tonight, he seems more resolute and adjusts his position on the bed, sitting you both up against the headboard of the luxurious bed that practically screams "newlyweds" just by its appearance.
His hand gently but purposefully moves your chin, encouraging you to look at him. With steadfastness, he inquires,
"Tell me, finally, what's going on? Why are you so distant every time we try to talk about it? Can you really not imagine us – you, me, and our baby?"
His words pierce through you, like a knife reopening an old emotional wound, allowing the suppressed emotions to bubble to the surface. You finally meet his gaze, your voice strained with tension as you whisper,
"Oh, I can imagine it – quite vividly, Simon."
He seems genuinely puzzled, unable to understand the source of your tension. From his perspective, he sees a beautiful picture-perfect image – even now, as he holds your body, which is taut with unease.
He whispers, nuzzling your hair, "Tell me... Tell me how you see us…"
With a resigned sigh, it seems you have no choice. His gaze is filled with such intensity, a glint in his eyes that demands an answer. If he wants to know, you'll tell him.
You begin, "I can imagine you and the baby, looking just like a mini version of you..."
As soon as the words leave your lips, his smile widens and his breath hitches, pulling you even closer to him. He's bracing himself to hear a heartwarming fairytale.
You continue, "I can envision the baby calling us 'mummy' and 'daddy,' drawing little pictures for us, where we all hold hands..."
"And how I pin one of the drawings on the refrigerator door," he interjects softly, already getting immersed in your narrative.
You go on, "I can picture the baby snoozing in my arms while you're at work, and I can picture myself staring at the clock on the wall in our spacious room."
Ghost glances at the wall clock, leaving a gentle kiss on your neck. He can now visualize the scene quite vividly.
You adds, "I occasionally check the time, and it strikes six o'clock..."
He whispers in return, "That's when I come home to you…"
You respond quietly, "Yes," but your demeanor doesn't reflect the same happiness as his.
He chuckles softly, planting a kiss on your cheek, and asks, "But where am I...?"
"I don't know," you whisper back, your voice slightly trembling. Ghost stops for a moment, sensing your emotions. However, you continue.
"It's already 11 pm... then 1 am... But... I don't hear your footsteps. Our baby is sleeping in my arms, and he's already asleep. But I can't... because I need to hear your footsteps first."
There's a noticeable tension in his muscles as you feel his chest against your back. The room is eerily silent, the atmosphere thick with unspoken emotions.
"It's already 7 am," you continue, your voice trembling with every word. "And I'm still sitting in our spacious room, staring at the clock. My heart is racing in sync with the ticking of the mechanisms. Our baby is sleeping peacefully in my arms, while I can barely keep my eyes closed, they're so sore from exhaustion."
You pause for a moment, but Simon remains silent. He's waiting. He knows you need to see him. So you continue,
"And then, I finally picture myself standing in front of you…
Your heart beats like a wild drum, and your voice trembles uncontrollably. Your tears flow relentlessly as you continue,
"You're lying there so peacefully, as if you were just sleeping."
Your voice cracks with emotion as you say, "Our baby is holding my hand and looking at you as well, asking why daddy looks so pale."
Simon can feel the hairs standing on end on his back from your words.
You continue, your voice still filled with a maelstrom of emotions.
"Then some of your soldier friends and comrades come, doing their routine job, while tears slowly stream down my face, creating an invisible wall between us. And after I've cried so much that I can't shed any more tears, I can vividly imagine myself standing in front of your grave, staring at your black-and-white photograph."
You slowly lift your gaze to meet his, teary-eyed and sobbing softly. He has stopped caressing your belly, and you notice a change in his expression. The glint in his eyes seems to have faded, and his gaze holds a different weight now. Perhaps it's just the evening shadows playing tricks on you, but you feel a cold shiver run through your body as the cool evening air sends a chill across your skin. The only sound that breaks the silence is the steady ticking of the wall clock's mechanism.
He finally breaks the silence, his voice eerily calm.
"You know what..."
You hold your breath, anticipation building, your heart racing in your chest. You hope he'll say something comforting and reassuring, the way he always does when he knows you're afraid. But as he takes another moment to compose himself, he speaks, his voice grave and slightly strained.
"I think... you should never say something like that again. Never again."