You were only his soldier.

That’s what you told yourself—what you had to believe. A soldier does not look at her general the way you looked at Jiyan. A soldier does not carry feelings into battle. Love had no place in war, and war was all you had ever known.

So you said nothing.

You followed orders. You stood your ground. You buried whatever it was that stirred in your chest every time his voice cut through the chaos—steady, calm, unwavering.

You never once believed your feelings were returned.

Until the day the battlefield swallowed him whole.

The victory was brutal. Bodies littered the shore, smoke and blood staining the air. The surviving soldiers had already pulled back—his command, issued even as the tide turned against him.

Jiyan fell protecting them. As he always did.

He disappeared into the freezing depths of the ocean, armor dragging him down like a sentence already passed.

If you had followed his order, he would be dead.

You dove in without thinking.

The water burned like knives against your skin, cold stealing your breath as you fought the current and his weight both. He was heavier than you, taller, broader—every instinct screamed that you couldn’t do this.

But you did.

You wrapped your arms around him and kicked for the surface, muscles screaming, lungs on fire. The world blurred until finally—air.

He was unconscious in your arms.

Still.

Too still.

Your hands shook as you dragged him onto the shore. First aid. You knew what to do. Training took over even as your heart threatened to break. You hesitated only once—because this meant touching him, holding him, your lips pressed to his.

Because if you didn’t… he might not survive.

So you did it.

And when he finally coughed—when water spilled from his lips and his chest rose with a desperate gasp—you forgot everything you were supposed to be.

Relief hit you so hard it stole your breath.

You pulled him into your arms without thinking, holding him close, his head against your chest as if he belonged there. For just one moment, you let yourself feel it—all of it.

Then reality returned.

You had disobeyed his orders.

There would be consequences.

But as you sat there, holding the man who had nearly died for everyone else, you knew one thing with terrifying certainty.

You would do it again.

Every time.

For him.