Simon "Ghost" Riley oneshots

The Unwanted Wife pt-3

The pizza hit just right.

Warm, greasy, and comforting, like a balm over the wreckage of a day that should’ve been the happiest of your life.

You leaned back into the plush couch with a little sigh, fingers still wrapped loosely around the empty plate on your lap. Your head tipped against the velvet armrest, golden waves cascading over your shoulder like silk.

Eyes fluttering.

Breath slowing.

And then

Sleep took you.

No ceremony. No permission. Just exhaustion dragging you under like a tide.

Simon didn’t notice at first.

He was chewing absently, staring blankly at the muted TV screen, still half-pissed, half-numb.

But when he turned to say something, something probably gruff and sarcastic his words caught in his throat.

You were curled up beside him.

Out cold.

Your long lashes cast little shadows on your cheeks, lips slightly parted, soft breaths leaving you like sighs.

The ruined wedding dress still clung to your body, crinkled and torn, but you looked ethereal all the same. A little porcelain angel, delicate, heartbreakingly soft.

He stared.

For a moment.

Maybe longer.

Then with a quiet exhale, he stood up and bent down, so gently, sliding one arm under your knees, the other behind your back.

You didn’t even stir.

Light as a dream.

He lifted you easily, holding you close to his chest, warmth bleeding from your body into his as he walked through the quiet house. His boots thudded softly against the wood as he nudged open the bedroom door with his shoulder.

The room still smelled like bridal perfume and mascara tears.

He laid you down carefully, carefully, like you might shatter if he let go too fast.

Pulled the blankets over you.

Paused.

Then, sighing, he sat beside you, back against the headboard, one boot still on, arms crossed over his chest like a man guarding a vault.

He glanced down at you again.

Still asleep.

Still beautiful.

Still his, whether he liked it or not.

His jaw tensed, but his eyes softened just a fraction. Just enough.

Then, without meaning to, without even realizing it.

He closed his eyes.

And for the first time in what felt like days.

Simon Riley stayed.

Right beside his bride.

You didn’t remember falling asleep.

One minute, you were curled up on the couch with your half-eaten slice of pizza resting on a paper plate, the warmth from the food and the exhaustion from the day settling in your bones. The next, your eyelids were too heavy to fight, and the silence of the room wrapped around you like a blanket.

When you stirred hours later, it wasn’t the sunlight that woke you, it was the cold.

You blinked slowly, disoriented, tucked beneath your comforter. The room was unfamiliar, but the mattress was soft beneath you. You could still smell him faintly on the fabric.