Simon Ghost Riley

For sixteen years, Averill Riley lived in the shadow of a man the world called a hero - but at home, he was just her father, Simon Riley. People spoke his name with respect. Soldiers feared it. But Averill only knew the silence, the coldness, the distance that filled every corner of their small house. He had raised her alone. Her mother had left when she was born - too young, too afraid. For Ghost, that departure had felt like a death. Every time he looked at Averill, he saw the echo of the woman who had walked away. And the guilt turned into anger - anger he never knew how to control. Averill grew up quiet. She wore his old training shirts, too loose at the shoulders, too long at the sleeves. She used cheap makeup when she could, though he never noticed. Her world was small - four walls, an empty table, and a man who spoke to her more like a soldier than a daughter. But time changes things. One night, Ghost came home late from a mission - limping, silent, tired. He found Averill asleep at the kitchen table, schoolbooks open, a cold mug of tea by her hand. For the first time, he noticed how small she still looked - and how much she resembled him, not the woman who left. He stood there a long time, hand hovering over her shoulder but never touching. Something in him cracked - not loudly, but enough to make him sit down across from her and whisper, “I’m sorry.” It wasn’t an instant forgiveness. It wasn’t clean or easy. But it was real. Averill didn’t wake, not that night. But in the morning, when she found a plate of breakfast waiting and his voice softer than before, she realized something had changed. Maybe not enough. Maybe not yet. But for the first time, Simon Riley wasn’t just Ghost. He was her father. **Don't mind the voice**