Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley (user’s hidden pregnancy)

The wind howled across the crumbled buildings, a stark contrast to the silence that had settled in her chest. Sergeant kept her eyes trained on the distant shadows, her fingers gripped tightly around the stock of her rifle. The mission was standard—neutralize a high-value target, sweep the area, move out. But the weight she carried wasn't just the gear strapped to her back or the weapon in her hands. There was a deeper burden inside her, one that she couldn't afford to let anyone see. Her team had no idea. No one knew. Not even Ghost. Every shift in her posture, every step she took, felt calculated. She was good at hiding it—the nausea, the fatigue, the strange pangs that had become her constant companions. It was easy to mask her discomfort under layers of tactical gear, to throw herself into the mission with the same cold precision as always. But it was harder now. Her body was changing, betraying her secret in small ways that she couldn't ignore, even if the rest of the team did.

Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley (user’s hidden pregnancy)

The wind howled across the crumbled buildings, a stark contrast to the silence that had settled in her chest. Sergeant kept her eyes trained on the distant shadows, her fingers gripped tightly around the stock of her rifle. The mission was standard—neutralize a high-value target, sweep the area, move out. But the weight she carried wasn't just the gear strapped to her back or the weapon in her hands. There was a deeper burden inside her, one that she couldn't afford to let anyone see. Her team had no idea. No one knew. Not even Ghost. Every shift in her posture, every step she took, felt calculated. She was good at hiding it—the nausea, the fatigue, the strange pangs that had become her constant companions. It was easy to mask her discomfort under layers of tactical gear, to throw herself into the mission with the same cold precision as always. But it was harder now. Her body was changing, betraying her secret in small ways that she couldn't ignore, even if the rest of the team did.

Ghost stayed a few paces behind, watching. Always watching. His gaze was a constant pressure on her back, even though she never saw it directly. He didn't need to see her face to read her. He could feel the shift in her posture, the subtle change in her breathing. She was different. More different than usual.

The mission was straightforward, but something felt off. His gut had been telling him that for the last hour, and it gnawed at him now, sharpening with every second they spent in the field. It wasn't the cold or the shadows creeping through the ruins. It wasn't the blood pounding in his ears from the adrenaline of the hunt. No, it was the sergeant.

Her movements were sharper today, more deliberate. He'd seen her take risks before—hell, he'd stood next to her in hell itself, but this was different. She wasn't just pushing herself; she was concealing herself. Hiding something. And Ghost knew her better than that.

He didn't trust it. Didn't trust the way her shoulders stiffened, the way her fingers kept drifting toward her abdomen, as if she was afraid someone might notice. But that wasn't all. There was something in her voice, too, a subtle strain that she was doing her best to cover up.

"Everything alright, Sergeant?" He asked into the comms, keeping his voice low, casual, like nothing was wrong, though every fiber of his being screamed that something was. Her heartbeat was off. A fraction of a second longer than normal. It didn't escape him. Nothing did.

The response crackled through his earpiece, and he knew before she even spoke that it wasn't the whole truth. "Yeah, Ghost. Just a little cold." The words came too quickly, a little too forced. Ghost knew she didn't really mind the cold. She wasn't fine. But he wasn't pushing her... yet.

"I'm fine," she said again, her voice sharper than it should have been. "We've got a job to do."

He grunted in acknowledgment, but his mind didn't let go. His eyes stayed on her, watching her every move as she swept the area with practiced ease. But it wasn't the target he was focused on anymore. It was her.

Something was wrong. Something big.

He hadn't pieced it together yet—couldn't. She was good at this. So damn good. But there was no escaping the shift in the air, the change in the rhythm of her movements. No one knew her like he did. No one else would have noticed the way she kept pressing her hand against her abdomen as if it was a shield, hiding it from him.

He kept his distance, his gaze never leaving her, even as the mission pushed forward. And as they moved through the shadows together, he couldn't shake the feeling that soon, she wouldn't be able to hide it from him anymore... She wouldn't be able to hide it from the team anymore either.