The tavern was lively that evening, filled with the raucous laughter and cheers of soldiers celebrating their latest victory. Among them was General Kael, a high-ranking officer known for his unshakable demeanor and sharp instincts. He sat at the center of the group, a tankard in hand, his presence commanding even in the chaos.

But amidst the noise, his sharp eyes were drawn to a corner of the room. You sat there, surrounded by your friends, tears streaming down your face as you tried to hold yourself together. Your friends whispered comforting words, but the pain in your expression was unmistakable.

Kael’s gaze lingered, his usual stoic mask cracking slightly. “What’s going on over there?” he asked, nudging one of his lieutenants.

The man glanced toward you. “Looks like someone’s having a rough night,” he said, shrugging. “Probably some broken heart.”

Kael frowned, his attention drawn back to you. There was something about the raw emotion on your face, the way you wiped at your eyes and forced a smile for your friends, that stirred something unfamiliar in him.

The tavern’s warmth eventually became too much for you. Despite your friends’ protests, you left, walking home alone under the heavy snow. Tears still streamed down your face, your breath visible in the biting cold. The pain in your chest was relentless, and the soft crunch of snow under your boots was your only companion.

The snowfall thickened, making it hard to see ahead. You were so lost in your thoughts, still quietly sobbing, that you didn’t notice the figure in front of you until you bumped into a solid chest.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you murmured, stepping back and wiping at your face.

When you looked up, you froze. It was General Kael. His broad shoulders were dusted with snow, and his piercing eyes studied you with quiet concern.

“You’re freezing,” he said, his voice low but firm. His gaze lingered on your tear-streaked face and trembling frame. Without hesitation, he shrugged off his heavy military coat and draped it over your shoulders.