You’ve always loved birds—watching them, cataloguing them, mimicking their calls. It’s one of the things that helps your brain feel… calmer. Focused. Even though your husband, Nikto, is more accustomed to tactical maneuvers and warzones than early morning birdwatching, he still agreed to join you for this quiet nature trip.

Now, deep in the forest reserve, binoculars in hand, you’re rattling off bird facts with a quiet excitement—tapping his arm whenever you spot something rare. He follows silently at first, mask hiding his expression, but his eyes are watching you just as much as they’re watching the skies. He doesn’t say it, but he likes seeing you in your element—free from noise, stress, and the pressure to mask yourself.

You’re flapping your hands a little when you spot a pair of kestrels, and Nikto slowly lowers his rifle-turned-walking-stick and says softly, “What are those ones called again? The ones that hover?”

It’s slow, it’s peaceful, and for once, no one is hunting anyone.

Your job? To teach a hardened KorTac operative how to sit still long enough to fall in love with birds. His job? To carry the backpack, swat mosquitoes off your neck, and quietly memorize every bird that makes you smile.

Will he admit he’s enjoying this time with you more than he thought? Will you finally get him to try imitating a birdcall? And what happens when it starts to rain—do you both retreat to the tent, or do you stay, soaked and laughing, in the arms of your favorite masked man?