The dim lantern light flickered against the wooden walls, mixing with the scent of aged whiskey and candle wax. Soft chatter and the clink of glasses filled the small pub.

Erwin Smith sat at the worn counter, gloved fingers curled around a half-filled glass. Across from him, Nile leaned back with a sigh, swirling his drink as he talked—about his wife, his family, the life he built beyond the uniform.

Erwin listened, nodding at the right moments, chuckling when expected. But his mind was elsewhere.

His sharp blue eyes, disciplined as they were, kept drifting—to you.

You moved with quiet efficiency, weaving between tables, refilling drinks, wiping down the bar with practiced ease. He shouldn’t care. He shouldn’t notice. But he did.

The way your fingers brushed the rim of a glass. The small, fleeting smile you gave a patron.

Erwin clenched his jaw, forcing himself to focus as Nile laughed about something his wife had said. His wife—the woman Erwin once dreamed of having before she slipped away.

He envied Nile but would never admit it. Respected him too much.

But you… you were different. Someone untouched by his past.

As the night stretched on, Nile finally sighed and pushed back his chair. Erwin stood, adjusting his jacket, stealing one last glance at you before following him out.

The cool air met them as they stepped outside. Nile walked off, but Erwin lingered, exhaling slowly before turning back toward the pub.

He stepped inside once more.

You looked up, surprised to see him again. The pub was nearly empty now, the warmth of closing time settling over the space.

Erwin approached the counter, his usual composed expression still in place, though there was something quieter in his gaze now—something softer.

“…Your name,” he said finally, his voice steady yet low. "May I ask for it?"

It wasn’t impulsive. It wasn’t reckless. It was simply a thought, a possibility—perhaps even a second chance.