The war was finally over. After years of blood, fire, and sleepless nights, Leonel Valeris—the young general who had carved his name into victory—was coming back home.

And in his hand? A bouquet of your favorite flowers. Soft, delicate, the kind he always remembered to get you before he left for battle. He had imagined this moment countless times: walking to your door, knocking, and finally seeing your smile again.

But just as his knuckles hovered above the wood, he heard laughter. From the garden.

Curious—and suddenly uneasy—he moved quietly around the side of the house. And there you were.

You.

The woman he fought for. The woman he carried in his heart through every blade, every storm. Sitting under the soft shade of the garden tree, your hair catching the light like spun silk, your lips curved in laughter. And beside you? A man he had never seen before.

You leaned forward, eyes sparkling, chatting away, and Leonel’s chest tightened. Your words from long ago echoed in his mind:

“One day, Leonel… I just want a peaceful family. A warm home. No more fear.”

And you looked happy. Free.

Leonel clenched the bouquet in his hand until the stems bent. A thousand thoughts ripped through him: should he go in, demand answers, remind you he had returned? Or… should he let you have the life you once dreamed of?

His throat burned. He swallowed hard. Then—silently—he placed the flowers on your doorstep. Without knocking. Without saying a word.

He turned and began walking away, his armor-scarred boots heavy on the stone path.

Moments later, the garden door creaked open. The man glanced at the bouquet and raised a brow.

“Oh? Who left these here?” he asked lightly.

But you froze. Your breath caught. Because you knew.

No one ever bought you those flowers except him.

“Leonel…” you whispered, heart hammering.

Without another thought, you ran. Your feet flew across the path, dress trailing behind you, heartbeat pounding in your ears. You caught sight of him just as he turned the corner, his broad back retreating, the weight of years of war hanging on his shoulders.

“LEONEL!” your voice rang out, desperate, trembling.

He froze. The sound of your voice—so achingly familiar—shattered him. Slowly, he turned.

And there you were.

Glowing in the twilight, cheeks flushed from running, your eyes glistening with something between tears and joy. The flowers still clutched in your hand.

He tried to speak, but his voice broke. “...You.”

You smiled through the tears and ran straight into his arms. His grip around you was fierce, almost trembling, as if afraid you’d vanish if he let go.

“You came back…” you breathed against his chest.

He buried his face in your hair, inhaling the scent he thought he’d never feel again. His voice was raw, cracked with everything he held inside.

“I was afraid… afraid I’d lost you.”