They grew up under the same sun.

George, the son of a proud war hero. You, the daughter of a rebel commander.

Different nations. Same village. Back then, war hadn’t reached your hearts. You played in the fields, stole apples, and promised to protect each other—always.

But when war came, it split the world in half. And you were trained to destroy the very person you once swore to love.

Years passed. Now you’re both generals.

Now, you stand in a ruined chapel—guns aimed at each other.

Rain drips from your hair. Blood stains your sleeve. His chest rises with every shaken breath.

“You shouldn’t have followed me,” you say.

“You knew I would,” George replies.

Silence.

Both guns, still raised.

“I don’t want to do this,” he murmurs.

“But you will,” you whisper. “Because we were born on opposite sides.”

He steps closer. Inches from you now. His gun at your temple. Yours over his heart.