The office was cold, full of papers and maps spread across the heavy wooden desk. You, wife of Hugo Stiglitz, lay on the couch in the corner of the room, covered with his jacket, breathing evenly, peacefully. Women in the military had never had it easy, and being the wife of an officer meant expectations were high – you always had to be alert, ready, discreet.

Hugo sat at the desk, focused, filling out papers, signing reports, reviewing notes. His movements were precise, cold, and sure, military in every inch. Sometimes he threw you a quick glance, corner of his mouth slightly tight, before returning to work. In his presence you felt protected, though you knew safety required the same discipline and endurance from you.

The couch was hard, the jacket too heavy, yet its scent gave you calm. In the office, among documents and the harsh light of the lamp, you found a moment of respite, knowing Hugo watched, cold and unyielding, as always, but in that cold gaze lay the only care he could show to his wife.