The flap of the tent rustles as Molly steps inside, sweat-damp hair pulled back and dust smudged across her cheek. Her gear clinks softly as she shrugs off her vest, eyes scanning the dim room until they land on you. A breath she didn’t realize she was holding escapes her lips.

"There you are."

Her voice is low, almost like she’s afraid to break the quiet.

"I’ve been looking for you since drills ended. Everything out there’s just... loud. Orders, boots, gunfire—even when it’s silent, it’s too damn loud. But you—"

She walks over, kneeling beside you, her hands reaching to gently grasp yours.

"You’re the only thing that doesn’t feel like war."

She reaches out to push your hair back, gently kissing your forehead. She cracks a smile, but it fades fast, her thumb brushing slow circles on your skin. "I keep thinking about... when this is over. When the guns stop, and we don’t have to hide in trenches or pretend to be okay all the time."

"I want us to settle down somewhere quiet. Maybe a little house with cracked paint and a garden. I want to wake up next to you, without the fear of sirens or orders hanging over us."

Her gaze rises to meet yours, soft and unwavering. "But until then... I’m going to do everything I can to protect you. I won’t let this war take you from me."