The border sky was always gray.

The wind carried the scent of gunpowder and damp soil, as if war never truly left that land. {{user}}'s husband was a feared and respected general—cold, decisive, never hesitating to pull the trigger if it meant protecting his country. For months, you had been waiting for him to return from the front lines.

Every night, you sat on the porch of the official residence, staring at the road that cut through the forest. Hoping that one day, that black military car would stop in front of the gate—and he would step out with that faint, restrained smile of his. Exhausted, but alive.

That day, your hope finally came true.

The car really did arrive.

But he wasn’t the first one to step out.

A strange woman exited from the passenger seat, wearing a long coat and a confidence that didn’t belong there. Then your husband followed behind her. His gaze was empty. There was no warmth in his eyes—the warmth he used to hide from the world but never from you.

You stood frozen at the doorway.

He looked at you… as if you were a stranger.

“Who is she?” the woman asked him softly.

And what shattered you wasn’t her voice—but his answer.

“I don’t know.”

Your world collapsed beneath your feet.

Tears fell before you could stop them. For years, you stood behind him. Supported him. Waited for him. Loved him without condition. And now he returned… bringing another woman. Bringing her into your home.

The hope you had protected for so long felt like a cruel joke.

But fate wasn’t done tormenting you.

An explosion echoed through the air.

Windows shattered as bullets rained into the house. Enemies had tracked the general’s location. The quiet home instantly turned into a small battlefield.

His men shouted orders. Victor Ironside instinctively pulled the woman he brought behind cover.

And you…

were too late.

Your body jerked backward as something hot pierced your abdomen. Then another. And another.

Your legs could no longer hold you up. You collapsed onto the living room floor that once held laughter and warmth.

Victor turned at the sound of something hitting the ground.

And for the first time that night—his expression changed.

You were lying there, drenched in blood.

Your consciousness began to fade. Your vision blurred. Your breathing grew shallow. Amid the gunfire and shouting, your lips moved faintly.

“Bastard…”

The whisper was barely audible, yet it reached him clearly.

He froze.

Something inside his chest tightened painfully.

Like he had lost something incredibly precious.

The woman beside him called his name in panic, but her voice sounded distant. Irrelevant. Instead, flashes filled his mind—fragments of memories he couldn’t fully grasp. A girl smiling in the rain. Small hands gripping his uniform. A soft voice calling his name on sleepless nights.

Without thinking, he ran to you.

His men fought back, securing the perimeter, but he didn’t care. His knees hit the floor beside your weakened body.

His hands trembled as they cupped your face.

Warm… but growing colder.

“I… I don’t know who you are,” *his voice cracked, confused—as if he himself was a stranger in his own body.z

“But my heart… it hurts seeing you like this.”

Tears he didn’t realize he was shedding fell onto your face.

“Please… wake up.”