Three weeks passed faster than either of them expected.

For Ethan, the days blurred into a relentless rhythm—training, packing, briefings, drills, medical checks. Every night he called Sofia, even if only for a few minutes, even if he was exhausted to the point of slurring his words.

It became the most important part of his day.

For Sofia, life became a contradiction.

She pushed herself harder at the academy than ever before—her knives moved faster, her flavors grew sharper, her technique more controlled. But her nights belonged entirely to Ethan.

Her phone lived in her pocket.

Her heartbeat lived in her throat.

Every time she heard his voice, something inside her softened and hurt at the same time.

Because the countdown never stopped.

The night before Ethan’s deployment, Sofia stood in her small kitchenette, unable to focus on anything. She burned two sauces, dropped a ladle, knocked over a glass.

Finally, she sat at the table, breathing shakily.

Her phone buzzed.

Ethan.

She answered so quickly her thumb almost slipped.

“Hey,” he said softly.

She could hear movement behind him—voices, zippers, rustling gear. Her stomach twisted.

“Are you packing?” she whispered.

“Yeah.” He glanced at his half-zipped duffel bag. “Last checks.”

“You sound calm.”

“I’m not,” he admitted.

Sofia’s chest tightened. She pressed the phone closer, as if she could close the distance by sheer will.

“I wish I could see you,” she murmured.

“Me too.”

Silence filled the space between their breaths.

Finally, Ethan said, “I leave early. Before sunrise.”

“Will you call me before you go?”

“If I can.”

“You… won’t forget?”

“Sofia,” he said softly, “there’s nothing in this world I could forget less.”

Her throat thickened.

“I don’t want this call to end.”

“Then it won’t,” he whispered.

And for hours, they talked.

Not about fear.

Not about danger.

Not about the unknown.

They talked about Monteluce.

About the scent of grape leaves in summer.

About the hill where they’d watched the sunset.

About Sofia’s new sauce she was testing for competition.

About Ethan’s favorite meal she’d cooked him.

They talked until her voice turned sleepy and his eyelids grew heavy.

But neither hung up.

Not until the base lights flicked to full brightness, signaling the final call.

“Ethan…” she breathed.

“I know,” he murmured. “I don’t want to go.”

“But you have to.”

“Yeah.”

Sofia sniffed. “Be safe.”

“I promise.”

“And come back to me.”

“I’m coming back,” he whispered. “I need you to believe that.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

A long pause stretched between them.

“I love you,” Ethan said quietly.

Sofia closed her eyes. “I love you too.”

And then, finally—too soon—

the call ended.

---

Deployment morning felt unreal.

The sky was still dark, a deep indigo broken only by the glow of the hangar lights. Soldiers moved like shadows—focused, silent, determined. The roar of engines echoed in the air.

Ethan stood among them, gear strapped tight, heart heavy but steady.

Camila approached, helmet tucked under her arm.

“You ready?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” he said honestly.

Her expression softened. “She’ll be waiting.”

“I hope so.”

“I know so,” Camila said firmly. “I’ve seen the way you talk to her now. That kind of connection doesn’t disappear.”

Ethan almost smiled. “You’re too good to me.”

“And you’re too stubborn,” she said, lightly punching his arm. “Now go make sure you come back so I don’t have to explain to Sofia why I let anything happen to you.”

He chuckled—but the weight behind her joke wasn’t lost on either of them.

The final boarding call echoed across the tarmac.

Ethan looked at the horizon one last time, imagining Sofia standing somewhere far away, looking at her own dawn sky.

“Here we go,” he whispered.

Then he climbed aboard the aircraft.

---

Thousands of miles away, Sofia stood on her balcony in the cold morning air, wrapped in a blanket, clutching her phone.

She waited.

And waited.

The sky slowly brightened.

The sun crested behind the buildings.

Her breath formed white clouds.

But her phone remained silent.

No call.

No message.

Her heart sank.

She told herself it was fine—maybe they weren’t allowed phones before boarding, maybe he had no signal, maybe he didn’t want her to panic.

But the quiet hurt more than she expected.

She whispered into the dawn:

“Ethan… please be safe.”

---

The next days moved slowly, painfully slowly.

Sofia threw herself into the academy competition prep, working late into the night, forcing her mind to focus on plating and flavor instead of danger and distance.

Every time her phone buzzed, her heart jumped.

But the messages weren’t from Ethan.

Not yet.

And the longer she waited, the heavier the fear became.

Until one afternoon, as she was chopping vegetables during practice, her phone vibrated in her apron pocket.

Her breath caught.

She wiped her hands quickly and checked the screen.

An unknown number.

Her blood ran cold.

She whispered, barely audible:

“No… no, no—please…”

She answered with trembling fingers.

“Hello?”

A pause.

Then a faint crackle.

“Hey…”

Sofia’s knees nearly gave out.

“Ethan?”

“Yeah,” he said, voice rough but unmistakably his. “Sorry. We finally got a few minutes to send messages out.”

Sofia pressed a hand to her heart, eyes burning.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Tired. But fine.”

She closed her eyes tightly, relief crashing through her in a wave so strong it made her dizzy.

“I was so scared,” she whispered.

“I know,” he said softly. “I’m sorry.”

Another pause.

Then:

“Sofia… I’m safe. And I’m thinking about you every second.”

Sofia smiled shakily.

“I’m thinking about you too.”

The connection crackled again, more static this time.

“We don’t have long,” Ethan said. “But I needed you to know I’m okay. And that I’m coming back.”

Sofia clutched the phone harder.

“I’ll wait,” she whispered. “I don’t care how long. Just… come home to me.”

“I will,” he said. “I swear.”

Static deepened.

“Ethan?”

“I’m here,” he whispered. “Always.”

Then the line cut.

Sofia stood frozen in the middle of the practice kitchen, phone pressed to her forehead, breath shaking with both relief and fear.

She wasn’t okay.

Not really.

But she also wasn’t scared alone anymore.

Because he was out there fighting, and she was here waiting, and somehow that connection—fragile, stretched across continents—felt unbreakable.

What Sofia didn’t know, what Ethan couldn’t tell her in that brief call, was that the mission they were heading into was far more dangerous than any deployment he’d trained for.

And soon, both of them would face a test neither expected.

One that would change everything—again.