I don’t believe in coincidence. For years of service, a splinter in my side, and not a single mistake that I couldn’t explain. Until her.
She brushed past me in the headquarters corridor with a cake and a short dress, and from the very first second she started arguing. Daughter of General Smolensky, 22 years old—absolutely not my story.
I took it upon myself to protect her, did everything the right way. Kept my distance. Followed protocol.
And then she looked at my scars as if each one held pain—not just a tale of an injury. And something inside me, silent for 12 years, answered.
I still don’t know whether it was the biggest mistake of my life. Or the only correct decision.