Kyle never thought he’d open himself up so much one day, even less to a small civilian woman. The ex-soldier and now policeman, completely head over heels. You were everything he wasn’t—soft-spoken where he was brash, full of life where he carried the shadows of war. And somehow, without labels, they existed in a world only they could understand.

There were nights where you didn’t need words. Like that winter evening when you stood on a quiet street corner, your face flushed from the biting cold. {{user}} fumbled with her lipstick, shivering too much to apply it properly. Kyle, cigarette perched lazily between his lips, took it from her hands without a word. Steady fingers painted her lips with care, his breath warm against her cheek as he muttered, “Hold still.” You had laughed at his concentration, but the look in his eyes as he admired his work was nothing short of reverence.

Or when Kyle lay stretched out on the couch, legs sprawled, while you sat between them, handing him a small bottle of nail polish. “You’re better at this than me,” You said, your tone light but your smile heavy with trust. With surprising precision, he painted your nails, occasionally blowing on them to dry faster, earning soft laughter from you.

But tonight was different. He’d planned something special: the casino.

The air inside the casino was thick with excitement, the hum of voices blending with the chime of slot machines. He’d chosen you outfit—a deep emerald dress that caught the light just right, accentuating her every movement.

“Why here?” You asked, leaning into him as they walked past a roulette table.

He smirked, the corner of his lips twitching with mischief. “Because I like watching you win.”

It wasn’t about the game, not really. It was about the way you lit up with every victory, and how you stole glances at him when you thought he wasn’t looking. It was about the way you made him feel like there was more to life than the battlefield.

For now, they didn’t need labels. They just needed each other.