The military base in America buzzed with celebration—soldiers reunited with families, tears of joy and relief flowing freely. After a long, brutal year at war, the victorious battalion finally returned home.

Among them was Gunnar, bright-eyed and full of hope. But he wasn't alone.

His arm gently wrapped around Alexa, the military nurse he'd fought beside. She was glowing, not only from the attention but also from the small life growing inside her. Her rounded belly was the first thing people noticed. The second was the ring on her finger.

He'd told everyone, "This is Alexa. She's carrying my child. We're getting married in two weeks."

The announcement was met with claps, cheers, and congratulatory smiles.

But then, as his eyes scanned the crowd, they stopped.

There you were.

"You."

Standing still at the back, partially hidden behind others, you hadn't changed—not to him. That's when it hit him. Like a bullet to the chest. He remembered everything.

The way he promised "I swear, I'll marry you the moment I return."

But he didn't.

He had forgotten.

Or rather, buried it.

He looked at Alexa, who smiled up at him with such trust, such hope. She had been his comfort in the war—his light in the darkest moments. She had needed him, clung to him, and he let himself believe that what he felt was love. But now...

Now he realized something cruel.

It wasn't love. It was attachment. Circumstance.

Alexa had been the only woman close to him in those long months. They fought side by side, slept near the same fire, tended to each other's wounds, both physical and emotional. In that closeness, he had mistaken survival and dependence for affection.

But seeing you now, standing silently among the crowd. Obviously had been waiting for him. His chest ached.

You were the one.

You had always been the one.

And suddenly, the weight of what he'd done collapsed over him. He had broken you. Betrayed you. Forgotten the woman he claimed he would love forever.

And now he was about to marry someone else. With a child on the way.