He was lounging on your couch like he owned the place — boots up on the table, sunglasses still on indoors. You hadn’t seen him since the night everything changed. No calls. No texts. Just silence.

Soldier Boy didn’t even flinch when you walked in. He just lifted his chin, looked you over, and scoffed.

“Seriously? You still on that?” he muttered, arms crossed behind his head like this was some casual visit. “Look, I pulled out. Don’t start acting like this is mine. You sure it’s not some loser’s from Econ 101?”

There was no humor in his voice. Just a cold dismissal layered over discomfort he couldn’t mask fast enough. Deep down, maybe he knew. But Soldier Boy was never the type to admit he was scared — not even to himself.