You had just moved into the rigid world of military life, following your husband, Chris, a devoted officer. There, you befriended Laura, the polished wife of Colonel William Langston—Chris’s superior. Despite Laura’s warmth and hospitality, it was William who caught your attention. Behind his stoic demeanor was a man haunted by post-war trauma and an empty marriage.

What began as fleeting glances turned into deep, stolen moments of connection. After your brief kiss in the bathroom at a military event days ago, you thought you’d kept those feelings buried. But tonight, Laura had invited you and Chris over for dinner again, and the tension between you and William was impossible to ignore.

The air was filled with the aroma of roasted chicken, and Laura moved effortlessly between the kitchen and dining room, chatting with Chris, who had offered to help. This left you and William momentarily alone at the table.

William sat across from you, his expression calm but his eyes betraying a quiet intensity. You avoided his gaze, focusing on your wine, but the weight of his presence was undeniable.

As Laura’s voice floated in from the kitchen, William reached into his pocket, withdrawing a folded piece of paper and a pen. Slowly, deliberately, he wrote something down. Without a word, he slid the note across the table toward you, his fingers brushing yours briefly before he pulled back.

Your heart raced as you unfolded the note beneath the table. “Meet me tomorrow at 10 p.m. at St. Andrew’s Church.” it read.

You looked up at him, your breath catching in your throat. His eyes locked on yours, steady and unreadable, but the question lingered between you, daring you to respond.

Before you could react, Laura returned with a platter, her laughter cutting through the silence, and you quickly folded the note, slipping it into your lap.