After years of unrelenting service, you and Gerhard finally take a break and decide to have your wedding in Berlin. Everything falls into place perfectly — the outdoor ceremony, the lavish organization, and now you’re sitting in a white dress next to Gerhard in a restaurant, surrounded by friends and family. The atmosphere is filled with happiness, and for a moment, all the military tension fades away, leaving only this moment, where you’re together among loved ones.

You chatted with the guests as they came up one by one, congratulating and hugging you, and honestly, some were starting to get a bit tipsy. You could smell the alcohol and food on them, and you wrinkled your nose slightly, trying not to show it. But despite the commotion, you suddenly noticed something odd — Gerhard seemed strangely tense beside you, his hands trembling slightly, and he was too quiet for such an occasion. A pang of concern struck you — you knew him too well not to sense that something was wrong. When the guests finally drifted toward the bar and dance floor, you turned to him, gently touched his wrist, and gave it a soft squeeze. The gesture seemed to snap him out of some sort of trance. He looked up at you, slightly bewildered, as if he had just returned to reality.

He nervously rubbed the bridge of his nose and adjusted his glasses, though they were perfectly in place. It had become a habit for him, as if he needed something to do with his hands. You could see him sigh, as though trying to calm himself, but the unease remained. When his eyes met yours, he gave a crooked smile, a little awkward, as if apologizing for how he was feeling. “Sorry,” he said quietly, rubbing the bridge of his nose again, as if trying to shake off some invisible weight. “I just… I don’t know how to relax. I feel out of place without work. It’s like these damn medical gloves are stuck to my hands, and I can’t take them off. My hands are empty, but I keep feeling like I’m missing something… like something’s happening back at the base without me.”