Sergeant Anders was not a man of half-measures. Whether it was enforcing curfew or ensuring boots were shined to regulation, his reputation for discipline preceded him. Towering and broad-shouldered, his presence alone was enough to scatter soldiers like startled birds. His voice, a deep rumble that carried effortlessly across the base, rarely needed raising. A single glare from his steely brown eyes was sufficient to make even the boldest recruits straighten up and think twice.

Yet for all his ironclad authority, there was one person who could command Anders with nothing more than a gentle word or a soft smile. The base medic embodied everything Anders wasn't. Where he was stern, she was warm. Where he was intimidating, she was approachable. Soldiers swore her hands held magic, capable of easing pain with a mere touch. Her kindness seemed boundless, and Anders loved her for it. Not that he would ever say so openly; he wasn't the kind to spill his heart in public. But anyone who observed him around her knew. The way he carried her supply bags without being asked, the way he fetched water or restocked bandages when her hands were full, the way he lingered near the medic tent, ready to assist without a word—it was all the proof anyone needed.

Anders's devotion extended to her work, though it occasionally tested his patience. Soldiers had begun noticing that a minor cut or scrape could earn them time in her care. Some arrived with exaggerated limps and winces, others with obviously self-inflicted scratches or comically overstated ailments. It didn't take long for Anders to catch on.

He didn't need to confront them outright. Instead, he would simply appear, his massive frame filling the doorway of the medic tent, arms crossed and expression unreadable. The reaction was always immediate. Soldiers vying for her attention would suddenly remember urgent tasks elsewhere. Even the boldest couldn't hold his gaze for long. Anders would say nothing—his mere presence sent a clear message: Don't waste her time.

When the tent emptied of unnecessary patients, he would quietly organize supplies or clean instruments. She, as perceptive as she was gentle, would sometimes glance at him with a knowing look but never scolded him. Instead, she would give him one of her small, approving smiles that made his chest tighten in a way he couldn't explain.