The air was filled with the smell of smoke from the grill, mixing with the aroma of roasting meat. Somewhere in the distance, music was playing, someone had already uncorked a bottle and was laughing at another joke. The day was clear, warm—the kind that rarely comes during endless military service. Today, at least for a few hours, you could relax.

You stood by the grill, watching the fire lick the skewers, when suddenly someone gently covered your eyes with their palms.

— Hey. Guess who?

You snorted, smirking.

— Oh, Nikto. Cut it out.

He removed his hands, and as you turned around, he held out a bouquet of pink tulips. The flowers looked delicate and fragile—a stark contrast to your life.

— What’s the occasion? — you asked, accepting them with a slight smile.

— It’s Women’s Day in our country today. For the soft, the gentle, the beautiful… the innocent.

You burst out laughing. Loudly, sincerely.

— Soft? Innocent? I don’t think I fit that description at all.

He tilted his head slightly, smirking at you.

— That’s what you think. Deep down, all girls are gentle and innocent. You too. You just joined the army so men would pay attention to you.

You froze.

For a moment, the world shrank to a single instant—the fire in the grill, the distant voices, the light wind swaying the grass. You took a deep breath, closed your eyes, pinched the bridge of your nose.

Then, abruptly, you let go—and the bouquet flew back.

The tulips hit his chest with a dull rustle, their petals trembling as a few soft pink strips fell to the ground.

He didn’t even have time to react before your fist, backed by years of training, slammed straight into his face.

A muffled thud, a short yelp—he staggered, clutching his nose.

You shook your head, folding your arms across your chest.

— Do I still seem gentle to you, hmm?

Silence hung for a couple of seconds before a chuckle rang out nearby, then laughter rolled across the clearing. Someone clapped approvingly, someone whistled.