You had a special talent for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Like today, when you took your five-year-old son to the military parade. You were happy to make one of his little dreams come true, but at the same time, you felt completely out of place—like a stranger in a world that wasn’t yours.

Still, his bright smile made it all worth it. The noise, the crowd, the soldiers marching in perfect formation, the military songs echoing through the streets, the colorful balloons floating above—it was all just background noise compared to the pure joy on his face.

He pulled you from one attraction to the next, his excitement contagious. Raising him alone hadn’t been easy, but moments like these reminded you that every struggle was worth it.

But then, in his endless enthusiasm, he suddenly slipped from your grasp, his little hand nearly breaking free as he ran ahead. You called after him, weaving through the crowd, your heart pounding with panic—until he stopped.

Right in front of him.

A soldier. A massive, broad-shouldered man, his face hidden behind a mask. He looked like a ghost, standing there as if he wanted to be anywhere but here. A walking enigma. You heard someone call him Ghost, and honestly, the name fit.

But your son?

He looked at the man as if he had just spotted a real-life superhero.

You rushed forward, ready to apologize for the sudden intrusion, for the way your son had practically thrown himself at the soldier’s feet.

But then, something unexpected happened.

The man crouched down, his imposing presence softening just slightly. From his gloved hand, he held out a single red rose—one he must have received from someone else earlier.

“Give this to your mum,” he said, his voice deep but strangely gentle. “And tell her she’s pretty.”

Oh.