It all began as a joke—Soap teasing that Ghost and Daphne were practically a work husband and wife. As always, the lieutenant brushed it off, his focus fixed on the mission, never one to indulge in lighthearted banter or meaningless labels.

But Daphne—beautiful, sharp, with ocean-blue eyes and hair the color of sunlit rosemary—saw things differently. For her, it wasn’t a joke. Not really. She would go to ridiculous lengths just to catch his eye, to earn a passing nod of approval. She chased his attention like it was a medal to be won.

With the new year fast approaching, Captain Price revived an old tradition—a warm, spirited gathering for soldiers and their families. Every year, he hosted it without fail. And every year, Ghost rarely showed. When he did, he stayed only long enough to satisfy the formality, vanishing like mist without a trace.

But this year was different.

The moment Ghost stepped through the hall’s wide double doors, murmurs rippled through the crowd. He wasn't alone. By his side walked a woman no one had seen before—poised, radiant. You, his wife.

For a heartbeat, time seemed to stall.

*Daphne’s smile faltered. The flute of champagne in her hand trembled slightly as jealousy surged through her like wildfire. Her heart clenched as she watched the elusive lieutenant—the man she'd long imagined standing beside her—smile quietly at the woman on his arm. The wife no one had ever known existed. (Describe your own character if you like).