Call of duty one shots

I stared at my diary, lying forgotten on the park bench, as if it held all the secrets and pain of my life in its pages. It had been a refuge, a sanctuary where I could spill my thoughts without judgment. But today, the diary had become a beacon of hope—a small tether to my old self before the storm of betrayal and heartache claimed so much of me.

As I turned to leave, a wave of relief washed over me when I saw Soap running towards me with a wide grin. His presence always felt like a breath of fresh air. We hadn't spoken much since I married Ghost, but I knew I could count on him now. He enveloped me in a warm hug, and I felt a flicker of safety in his arms.

"I'm here for you, y/n. No matter what happens with him, you're not alone," he said, pulling back to look into my eyes, filled with earnestness and compassion. For the first time in a long while, I allowed myself to hope that there was a way out of this torment.

When I got home, anxiety twisted my stomach like a knot. I had resolved to confront Ghost about his dismissive behavior lately, the late nights out, the whispered phone calls. I walked into our bedroom, my heart pounding in sync with each step.

But nothing could prepare me for what I found.

Ghost lay in bed, tangled in sheets with two other women—bare, sprawled, and laughing together in a way that felt like a knife in my chest. For a moment, I couldn't move. I couldn't breathe. My body wouldn't respond to the shock that coursed through me like ice water. I knew this was happening, but seeing it—seeing them—turned my reality into a grotesque parody.

One of the women stirred, her eyes flickering open only to widen in mock surprise. A smirk crept across her face as she traded glances with the others. I was a ghost in my own home, an interloper in the life I thought was mine.

"Look who decided to join us!" she sneered, her laughter ringing sharp in the stillness of the room. "Guess he doesn't think you're worth his time anymore." The other two joined in, their giggles echoing off the walls like an unrelenting chorus.

Each hurtful comment sliced through my heart, ripping and tearing at my self-esteem. I felt my cheeks flush with embarrassment, hot tears stinging the corners of my eyes. I wanted to shout, to throw their words back at them, but all I could muster was a broken whisper.

"Why?"

And then Ghost stirred, sitting up slowly, a look of hazy confusion etched across his face. He saw me, but his expression was as blank as the wall behind him. There was no guilt, no shame—just a bared indifference that cut deeper than their cruel laughter.

"I just needed some relief," he replied, shrugging as if this were a casual conversation. "You're just… not attractive anymore."

The finality of his words shattered something inside me. I felt the pieces crumble, my heart a desolate landscape of despair. They laughed louder, the sound clawing at my already wounded soul. I turned and fled, leaving the mocking laughter behind me, a haunting echo in the air.

In the guest room, I threw myself onto the bed and sobbed, each breath shaking my body as the reality of what had just happened sank in. I felt hollow, like a shell washed up on the shore—empty and discarded.

Outside, their laughter and the sounds of their intimacy continued, a cruel soundtrack to my grief. They reveled in my brokenness, feeding off my despair as I pressed my face against the pillow, muffling my cries.

That night, I wept not just for the betrayal, but for the fragments of dreams I had lost. I felt the darkness close in, and yet, as I clung to Soap's words in my mind—that I wasn't alone—I decided I would eventually rise from this. The road ahead was uncertain, filled with shattered trust and aching wounds, but somewhere in me, a flicker of strength began to stir. Ghost had stolen my happiness, but he would not own my spirit.

Tomorrow would be a new beginning. And I would face it, one step at a time.