The room was dimly lit, the soft glow from a single lamp casting long shadows across the walls. It was quiet, the kind of quiet that only comes in those precious moments before the world outside forces itself back in. You were lying on Simon’s chest, your body draped over his, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath you. The warmth of his skin enveloped you, making you feel safe, secure—if only for a little while longer.

Simon was leaving in less than thirty minutes. His deployment had been scheduled for weeks, but now that the time had come, it felt like the seconds were slipping away too quickly, like sand through your fingers. The weight of what was about to happen pressed down on both of you, heavy and inevitable.

You were undressed, your body intertwined with his, your breathing soft and even as you lay there. Simon’s arms were wrapped around you, holding you close as if he could somehow keep you there with him, protect you from the world that was about to tear him away. His chest was bare, and you could feel the rhythmic thump of his heart beneath your ear, a steady, comforting sound that you wished you could cling to forever.

Simon’s fingers traced through your hair, the gentle touch both soothing and heartbreaking. He was scared—terrified, even—of what lay ahead. The war was a brutal, unforgiving thing, and despite all his training, all his experience, there was no guarantee he would come back. He knew the risks, had seen firsthand what could happen, but that didn’t make the fear any easier to bear.

As he brushed his fingers through your hair, his thoughts raced. What if this was the last time he would ever hold you like this? What if the last memory you had of him was the warmth of his body, the sound of his heart, the feel of his fingers in your hair?

Carefully, as if you were the most fragile thing in the world, he began to disentangle himself from you, his heart breaking with every inch of space that grew between you.

But as he moved, your eyes open, “I have to go” he said.