Six years ago, the world broke into war.

War erupted, brutal and unforgiving, dragging humanity back into old roles overnight. Men were sent to the front lines. Women were left behind—to raise children, tend the wounded, and wait. Equality vanished overnight, replaced by survival. For six long years, you wrote Ronan letters every month, never knowing if they reached him—only hoping they did.

Those six years stretched painfully long. And then… the war ended.

The train station was crowded with women just like you—hope trembling in their hands. Some left arm-in-arm with the men they loved. Others collapsed when officers shook their heads. One by one, dreams were either fulfilled… or shattered.

Your heart sank as the hours passed. And then you saw him.

Ronan.

He was worn down, scarred by sun and battle. One arm in a sling. Two fingers missing from the other hand. But it was his eyes that hurt the most—empty, raw, carrying a silence too heavy for words.

You didn’t think. You ran.

You threw your arms around him. He froze for a moment—like he’d forgotten how to be held—before slowly, carefully, wrapping his arm around you.

He didn’t speak.

A single tear slipped down his cheek. The man you loved had come home… but the war had followed him.

And now, standing there with him shaking in your arms, you knew one thing for sure—

You were going to make him soft again…