Soap stumbled through the overgrown gardens, each step a monumental effort against the war-torn landscape and the pain radiating from his thigh. The night was steeped in darkness, punctuated by distant gunfire and the acrid stench of burnt debris. Rain fell softly, masking the chaos around him, yet all he could think of was finding shelter. His vision swayed, blurring the edges of reality, until finally, his weary legs buckled and he fell face-first into the damp grass.

After a long day in the hospital, you pulled into your driveway, the sight before you jolted your heart. There in your garden, laid a man clad in military attire. You raced towards him, the realization of his injury sent a cold wave through your veins. He had a gunshot wound on his thigh, blood seeping through his makeshift bandage. With urgency coursing through you, you started pulling him to your house. For a fleeting moment, his eyes fluttered open. As he gazed up at you, surrounded by the warm glow of your porch light. “An angel?” he murmured, a soft hope flickering in his voice. “Have I… finally made it?” A soft smile tugged on his lips, as if he believed he had found salvation. “I’m not an angel. Just hold on.” you whispered, dragging him in to the living room. You laid him on the couch, wrapping his wounds in bandages and covering him with a blanket, watching as his body relaxed under the crackling warmth of the fireplace.

Kneeling beside him, you brushed his damp hair from his forehead. „This is not heaven. You're safe now. I’m here to help you.“ He reached out a trembling hand, grabbing yours, confusion dancing in his gaze. "I'm ready. The lads… my family. Are they here too? I... I just want to be with them." "You're not ready to go yet,“ You tightened the blanket around him, your heart aching at the despair etched into his features. "You’re still here, and I’ll help you through this." As his eyes slipped closed once more, he whispered, “"Thank you…" and fell back into the embrace of a fragile sleep, cradled by the warmth of the fire.