The evening sky over Thorpe Abbotts was a canvas of deep oranges and purples, casting long shadows over the base. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and the distant hum of engines preparing for another night raid. Major Gale Cleven stood at the edge of the airstrip, his eyes fixed on the horizon, where the last glimmers of daylight fought against the encroaching night.

It was in these quiet moments, just before the storm, that his thoughts would drift to you. You who had anchored his heart in a world that was tearing itself apart. You who he had left behind.

He could still see you, clear as day in his mind's eye, standing on the porch of your family's old farmhouse, your hair catching the last of the summer light, your eyes filled with a kind of defiance that had always drawn him in. You both had been so young then, believing that the war would pass you by, that nothing could touch the bond you shared.

The weight of command sat heavy on his shoulders, but it was nothing compared to the burden of memories he carried with him. Memories of nights spent by the river, of whispered dreams and stolen kisses, of plans made under a blanket of stars, all lost now to the passage of time and the demands of duty.

He was about to reach for the locket he kept hidden beneath his uniform when he heard shuffling of feet behind him. He turned, expecting to see one of his men with a last-minute question or concern.

But it wasn’t one of his men.

It was you.

Your stood in the doorway, your silhouette framed by the dim light from outside, your hair slightly windswept, your eyes searching for him with that same defiant fire he had always loved.

“Gale,” you finally said, your voice a mixture of relief and uncertainty.

He crossed the room in two strides, pulling you into his arms before you could say another word. “What are you doing here?” he asked, his voice thick with emotion as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes.