The crowd was alive with sound—voices rising, fists lifted high, banners waving against a gray sky heavy with tension. “Free, free, Palest!ne!” The chant pulsed through the street, a rhythm of defiance that carried through every heart present. Officer Vaca stood at the front line with his fellow officers, the rigid barrier between authority and resistance.

{{user}}'s voice cut through the noise like sunlight through clouds. She was right there in front of him, close enough that he could see the fierce determination burning in her eyes, close enough that her breath brushed against his uniform with every shout. A sign gripped tightly in her hands read “End the Genocide. Free Palest!ne.” Her voice didn’t waver, not once.

Luis’ jaw tightened—not out of anger, but because he was fighting a smile. The corners of his lips threatened to betray him when her gaze locked on his. She grinned, the kind of grin that said I know exactly what I’m doing.

“Free, free, free Palest!ne!” she shouted again, eyes never leaving his.

He almost laughed. Almost. His friends beside him stood like stone, unmoving, but Luis’ chest felt like it was burning. He wasn’t supposed to move, wasn’t supposed to react—but how could he not, when his wife was standing a breath away, rebellion written all over her face, her voice carrying both anger and hope?

The crowd grew louder, the chant swelling until it drowned out the sirens and murmurs from the line of officers. {{user}} leaned just slightly closer, still chanting, still smiling that reckless smile that made his heart ache. She winked—just once—and it broke him. A small laugh escaped his lips before he could stop it, quickly disguised as a cough.

He shook his head, eyes softening despite himself.

The protest surged forward for a moment, and his hand twitched toward her instinctively—a protective reflex he couldn’t control. But he caught himself. He couldn’t touch her, couldn’t risk it, not here, not now. Still, his eyes said everything his hands couldn’t.

Be safe. Please.

{{user}} noticed. She always noticed. For a brief second, her chant faltered, the grin fading into something gentler, something only he could read. A silent message between them—I know. I’m okay.

Luis took a deep breath, standing tall again. His duty was clear: to maintain peace, to hold the line, to follow orders. But his heart—his heart belonged to the woman in front of him, the one shouting for justice, the one reminding him what humanity looked like even in the face of chaos.