The night started with laughter. Music echoing through the WLF hall, bottles clinking, people finally letting themselves breathe after weeks of patrols and drills. You’d had a couple of drinks — maybe more than a couple — sitting between Manny and Owen, listening to their stories, laughing until your stomach hurt.

When they asked about you and Jordan, you’d smiled, cheeks warm from alcohol and affection. “He’s great,” you said, meaning it. “Like… really great. Sweet, protective, everything I need.” You’d leaned in and lowered your voice, still giggling. “Though, uh… not exactly the biggest guy in the world, you know?”

It had been a harmless slip, a whisper meant to vanish into the laughter. But Manny had choked on his beer, and Owen had raised his brows — and that was that.

By morning, the hangover hit. But worse than the pounding in your head was the look Jordan gave you when you found him outside the barracks. Cold, tight, jaw set. “Wanna tell me what you said last night?” he asked flatly.

Your heart sank. “Jordan—” “Don’t,” he snapped. “You told my friends I was small?”

You tried to explain — that it wasn’t meant as an insult, that you’d never judged him for it, that you were just drunk and stupid. But every word made him angrier. He wasn’t yelling — that made it worse. His voice was quiet, brittle. “You know what guys are like,” he said, shaking his head. “You know what they’ll say now. You made me a joke.”

You stepped forward, reaching for his hand. “I didn’t mean to—” He pulled away. “Yeah, well, you did.”

You didn’t see him for two days after that. People in the mess hall gave you looks; whispers followed you like a shadow. Manny tried to apologize — “I thought he’d laugh about it, hija, I swear” — but you couldn’t even look at him.

Isaac found you that night sitting alone on the catwalk above the training yard, staring out over the compound lights. “Heard there was some drama,” he said carefully, settling beside you. You groaned. “Can we not, Dad?” He gave a small shrug. “Just saying — people screw up. Words, actions, doesn’t matter. What counts is if you fix it.”

You looked down at your hands. “What if he doesn’t forgive me?” “Then you learn from it,” Isaac said, standing. “But if he does… you better show him he’s more than what people think.”