The convoy rolled through the crowded streets during your day patrol, armored vehicles humming like restrained beasts. When hunger struck, the lead driver diverted toward the old riverside fish market. The scent of salt, oil, and spice drifted through the air as your vehicle came to a halt.

One soldier stepped down. “Find somewhere clean and secure,” another muttered, scanning the surroundings.

Your door remained open. You sat inside, silent, watchful.

The market buzzed with life—vendors shouting prices, oil crackling in wide iron pans, gulls crying overhead. And then she appeared.

She stood beside a wooden stall, a woven basket balanced effortlessly on her head, filled with small fish wrapped in green leaves. Freshly fried fish and golden shrimp sizzled in a shallow pan before her. The glow of the oil reflected against her smooth brown skin.

She wore a deep red blouse tied at the front and a soft cream sari draped around her waist. Layers of golden necklaces rested against her collarbone, bangles shimmered along both arms, and delicate earrings brushed her neck when she moved. A small red crescent mark adorned her forehead, and white jasmine flowers were tucked into her dark braided hair. Her eyes were steady—curious, not fearful.

She noticed the armored convoy. Then she noticed you.

Picking up a plate lined with banana leaf, she stepped forward carefully.

“Fresh from the river,” she called softly, her voice calm despite the tension. “Fried just now. You won’t find better.”

Two soldiers immediately crossed their rifles before her.

“Stop right there,” one barked. “Keep your distance.”

She paused but didn’t retreat. Her chin lifted slightly.

“I only bring food,” she replied, holding the plate higher so they could see. “Crispy fish… spiced shrimp. Even emperors must eat.”

Another soldier narrowed his eyes. “Move back, miss”

She glanced past them—toward you sitting in silence inside the vehicle. For a moment, the noise of the market seemed distant.

“I mean no harm,” she said quietly. “Let him taste it while it’s hot. Cold fish loses its pride.”

The soldiers hesitated, tension hanging thick in the humid air. Oil crackled behind her stall. The smell of spice drifted closer.