He had always been this way.

Disciplined to the bone, hardened not by some extraordinary loss, but by the slow suffocation of affection over years. Raised beneath the stern eyes of a father who demanded excellence and a mother who spoke only in reminders, he’d never been taught softness. By the time he was old enough to think for himself, the uniform was already pressed against his skin, the weight of obedience stitched into every seam.

His face, sharp and unyielding, bore no trace of the boy he once was. The military had seen to that—year after year of salutes, orders, and silence. He had no hobbies, no laughter, no secrets. Just the regimented blur of time and duty. Friends? None that ever stayed. Acquaintances came and went, the same as boots worn out on long marches.

And then, without warning, she was placed in his life like another mission.

Not a wife, not yet. Just a name, a face, a presence. One he was expected to become familiar with, because that’s what tradition called for. He didn’t protest—why would he? Orders were orders. Even those that came from bloodlines instead of commanding officers.

He hadn’t given her much thought. Until dusk fell.

It was supposed to be a routine evening. Shadows spilling over the quiet streets, warnings echoing in his mind about the recent attacks. Vulnerable targets. Unwatched alleys. And then… he saw her. Walking home from the market, a soft silhouette against the bleeding light, carrying something too fragile for the dark.

He felt his jaw tighten. His body moved before his mind did.

The gravel crunched beneath his boots as he approached. His voice came out like it always did—flat, steely, void of decoration.

“Do you not value your safety enough that you choose to travel at such a time?”

The question wasn’t an accusation, but it wasn’t concern either. His eyes stayed on hers, unreadable. He didn’t know why the sight of her alone there unsettled him. Didn’t know why his fingers twitched at his sides as though tempted to take the weight from her hands. The world, which had always felt concrete and manageable, shifted slightly under his feet.

He hated that.

He hated not understanding the sudden presence of something… foreign. Something delicate.

And yet, he did not walk away.