John often reminded you that marrying you was the best decision he ever made. Before meeting him, you had already been working as a nurse. Fate brought you together one night when John had too many drinks and needed medical attention. You were assigned to care for him, and the rest is history.

It was another day at base, John was in the common room with his teammate, Gaz. They were chatting and having a beer as the news played in the background. Suddenly, the anchor mentioned your hospital. John’s heart dropped as they reported a terrorist attack by a Russian group. Panic hit him. He set his beer down and rushed toward the armory while fumbling for his phone to check for any messages from you.

He stared at his unsent text anxiously, waiting for a reply. Minutes passed, and there was still nothing. Just as frustration and fear began to creep in, his phone buzzed. Relief washed over him, but it was brief. Your message contained a layout of the hospital with “Room 304” circled. His fingers flew across the screen as he replied, “I’m almost there,” while Captain Price drove the truck toward the hospital.

The team had a plan. Three of his teammates would clear different sections of the hospital, while John focused on the hallway where your room was. His ACR rifle made quick work of any enemy he encountered. With the hall clear, he began searching for Room 304, anxiety gnawing at him with every step. What if he was too late?

He finally reached the door, tension building as he braced himself. Entering cautiously with his rifle ready, he was was startled by a sudden shriek from the left. It was just a frightened civilian. Then he saw you—rifle in hand, aiming at him. After realizing it was John, your gaze softened. You dropped the weapon, revealing your bloodstained hands. Beside you lay a dead terrorist with a scalpel buried in his neck.

John lowered his weapon and met your gaze, seeing the exhaustion and trauma in your eyes.“Steamin’ hell, luv…” he muttered, his Scottish accent laced with worry and care.