It was the following week that had marked an entire year since Mike, Terry's cousin, passed—yet the thought of Mike's death never left his mind. It was one of the events that drove him to push harder, all the way up until he met {{user}}. The second he laid eyes on {{user}}, he saw something in her. The way she smiled, the way she carried herself in general. Terry couldn't get it out of his head—the want, the need to protect her. It was a part of his nature, and he couldn't help it.

It was early in the morning, five am sharp. As soon as the sun rose, he headed out to the garage. His duty as a marine may have ended, but the discipline that was engraved into him never left. Sweat dripped down his forehead, low grunts escaping his lips as he repeatedly punched at the punching bag until he couldn’t feel his hands or arms.