Paul had prepared a document. It was six pages long. Veronica found it on the dining table while searching for her keys. She picked it up, glanced at the title, and immediately regretted it.
OPERATION: MARRIAGE
Below the title was a list.
Date
Location
Guest list
Budget
Security
Food
Emergency arrangements
Alternative venue
Alternative date.
Alternative emergency arrangements
Veronica stared at the last line. Then she walked into the bedroom.
-Paul.
From inside the bathroom, he answered, -What, Honey?
-Why does our wedding have an emergency evacuation plan?
-What if there is an emergency?
-It's a wedding, Paul.
-That doesn't make it immune to emergencies.
-Why are there three alternative venues?
-Just alternative venues.
-There are three.
-The third is only a backup suggestion.
-It is even worse.
Paul came out of the bathroom, adjusting the collar of his shirt. He looked at the document in her hand.
-You found it.
-I was hoping it was a classified military operation.
-Well, it is a sort of classified military operation.
-Our wedding is not classified.
-I think it should be.
-Why?
-Because if Mpho finds out before we finalize the details, he'll turn it into a public event.
Veronica lowered the papers.
-He already knows.
Paul froze.
-Hoowww?
-I told him yesterday.
-You told Mpho?
-He's our friend.
-He's a disease.
-He was happy.
-So that's why he eagerly hugged me in the morning. I thought of something inappropriate.
-Wha….?
Within a millisecond, with a sweaty face, Paul replied,
-Nothing, Honey!
Veronica placed the document on the table.
-You wrote 'security personnel: minimum twelve.
-Can't take any chance.
-We're not transporting a head of state.
-No. But we're transporting you.
She narrowed her eyes. Paul immediately raised both hands.
-That sounded better in my head.
-It sounded terrible outside your head.
-Forget I said that.
-You'll remove the entire document.
-I spent three hours on it.
-That explains why the kitchen light was on at three in the morning.
-I was thinking.
-You were making a military briefing.
-Planning is thinking with structure.
-Planning is deciding where to put the chairs, Paul. Not calculating escape routes.
He glanced at the document.
-Actually, the chairs are under section four.
Veronica closed her eyes. For a few seconds, Paul watched her fight the urge to throw the papers at him. Then she laughed.
It surprised him. Not because she rarely laughed anymore. She did, more often now. But this laugh came without restraint, without the careful control she had carried for years. Paul smiled.
-What?
-You're impossible, Paul
-You agreed to marry me.
-I was emotional.
-You were standing in a corridor.
-I was surrounded by poor lighting and emotional exhaustion.
-You said yes.
-I can still change my mind.
Paul pointed at the document. -That would invalidate the entire operation.
She picked up a pen from the table and crossed out the title. Then she wrote beneath it: Our Wedding. Paul looked at the new heading.
-That's less efficient.
-It's less ridiculous.
-Those aren't mutually exclusive.
She handed him the pen.
-Come on. We have to decide what we actually want.
Paul sat down. Veronica took the chair opposite him. For a moment, neither spoke. Not because they had nothing to say. Because they suddenly had too much. They began with the date. That should have been simple. It was not.
Paul wanted a date within the next three months. Veronica wanted more time. Paul argued that three months was enough to organize a small ceremony. Veronica reminded him that he had once spent six weeks deciding which kitchen table to buy.
-That was a major financial decision, he said.
-It was just a table.
-It was an investment. A big one.
-It had four legs and a surface.
-It was poorly constructed.
-You sat on it.
-Exactly. I tested it.
Veronica leaned back.
-I want the wedding to feel like something we chose. Not something we arranged between assignments.
Paul's expression changed slightly.
-That's what I want too.
-Then why are you rushing?
-I'm not rushing.
-You made an emergency plan.
-That's unrelated.
-Everything is related to you.
He looked down at the paper. The truth was less comfortable than his explanations. He wanted to marry her while things were good. Not because he believed something terrible was about to happen. He had spent too many years around danger to confuse fear with instinct.
But he knew how quickly life could change.
A mission could appear without warning. A deployment could last longer than expected. A simple day could become a memory before anyone realized it was ending. He didn't want their marriage to remain another promise waiting for a convenient time. Veronica watched him.
-You're afraid we'll postpone it, she said.
Paul looked up.
-I'm afraid we'll keep postponing everything.
She said nothing. He continued,
-We did that before. We kept telling ourselves we would have time. Time after the next assignment. Time after the next promotion. Time when things became safer.
-And now?
-Now I don't want to do that again.
Veronica folded her hands on the table.
-We don't need to rush to prove we're serious.
-I know.
-Do you?
-Yes.
-Then stop acting like the wedding is a mission that will fail if we don't complete it before sunset.
Paul considered that.
-Would you prefer sunrise?
She threw the pen at him. He caught it.
-See? he said. -This is why we need security.
They eventually chose a date six months away. Veronica wanted a proper ceremony, but not a large one. Paul wanted a small ceremony, but not one that felt secretive. They compromised somewhere in the middle.
There would be close friends, a few family members, and several OPESTM personnel who had become more like family than colleagues. Mpho immediately appointed himself responsible for the guest list. He was relieved of responsibility within ten minutes.
-He wrote down the names of people we have never met, Veronica said, holding the list.
Paul looked over her shoulder.
-Who is 'the tall guy from weapons maintenance'?
-Mpho says he helped him once.
-Did he?
-No.
-Then why is he invited?
-Because Mpho says he has a good heart.
Paul took the paper from her. -We're inviting people based on evidence now? That's cruel.
-The most cruel thing youv'e dome is once you tried to repair the apartment's heating system with a combat knife.
-It worked.
-It almost exploded.
-It worked smoothly.
She reached for the list. -Give me that.
Paul held it above her head.
-Paul.
-You're too short.
-I'm going to break your arm.
-You'll have to reach it first.
She stepped closer.
He lowered the paper just enough for her to grab it, then moved away as she reached. Veronica stared at him.
-Are you twelve?
-Emotionally, yes.
-You're going to be someone's husband.
-I'm already someone's husband in every meaningful way.
She stopped. Paul stopped too. The words had come out casually, but neither of them treated them casually. They were legally unmarried. Emotionally, they had been together for years. But now the distinction mattered. Veronica looked down at the list.
-Not yet, she said.
Paul's voice softened. -Y-Yeah! Not yet."
She folded the paper and placed it on the table.
-But soon."
The wedding preparation spread through OPESTM faster than either of them expected. By the end of the week, three people had congratulated Paul, two had congratulated Veronica, and one had asked Mpho whether the ceremony would include a military salute. Mpho told him yes.
There would be no military salute. There would also be no ceremonial flyover, no tactical formation, and absolutely no use of an OPESTM transport aircraft to carry wedding guests. Paul discovered this when Corlowall summoned him to his office Corlowall behind his desk, reading a report. David Fletcher and Fiana standing right beside him.
Paul remained standing. He noticed Paul and asked Corlowall and Fiana to leave. On their way both David and Fiana congratulated him. Then they left the room. With a bit of a surprised look, Paul asked
-You wanted to see me?
-I heard you're getting married.
Paul looked toward the door.
-Who told you?
-Everyone.
-That's concerning.
-Why?
-Because I assumed we were keeping it private.
Corlowall looked at him over the report. -You told Mpho.
-I know it was a mistake.
-You proposed in an OPESTM corridor.
-That was also a mistake.
-Are you beginning to see a pattern?
Paul sat down without being invited. Corlowall pushed a folder toward him.
-Your western command review is scheduled for next month.
Paul opened the folder. The first few pages contained evaluation summaries, deployment records, and recommendations from senior officers. He read in silence.
Corlowall watched him.
-You don't have to accept the position, he said.
-I know.
-But you're being seriously considered.
-I know that too.
-Your performance during the Africa crisis has made you difficult to overlook.
Paul closed the folder.
-Is this a congratulations?
-It's an administrative warning.
-That sounds more like you.
Corlowall leaned back.
-You're getting married. You're also being considered for a position that will demand more of your time.
Paul glanced at the folder.
-How much more?
-Enough.
-That's not a number.
-It's the only number that matters.
Paul rubbed his thumb against the edge of the folder.
-Veronica's being considered for field command.
-I know.
-Of course you do.
Corlowall ignored the comment. -You both need to understand that marriage won't change the organization's needs.
Paul looked at him.
-Does that mean the organization expects us to schedule our lives around it?
-The organization expects soldiers to understand their responsibilities.
-And if those responsibilities conflict?
Corlowall's expression remained firm, but his voice became quieter.
-Then you make a decision.
Paul almost laughed.
-That's convenient.
-No. It's necessary.
Corlowall picked up another document.
-For what it's worth, I hope you two find a way to make it work.
Paul stood.
-Was that the official position?
-No.
-Good.
He reached the door.
-Paul.
He turned. Corlowall hesitated before speaking.
-Don't let the organization make every decision for you.
Paul studied him. Then he nodded once and left. That evening, Veronica was sitting on the floor surrounded by fabric samples.
Paul stood in the doorway.
-What happened?
-I'm choosing a dress.
-Did the dress attack you?
-Worse. It has opinions.
He looked at the scattered pieces of cloth.
-There are too many.
-There are only six.
-Too many.
-You had three backup venues.
-Those were necessary.
-Of course they were.
Paul stepped over a piece of fabric and sat beside her. She held up two samples.
-This one or this one?
He studied them. One was pale and simple. The other was slightly darker.
-This one.
-Why?
-It looks stronger.
Veronica stared at him.
-It's fabric.
-So what?
-You chose the one that looks like military curtains.
Paul looked again.
-It does not.
-It absolutely does.
-Then why did you ask me?
-Because I wanted your opinion.
-You asked the wrong person.
-That has never stopped you before.
He handed the sample back.
-Choose the one you like.
-I like both.
-Then choose both.
-I can't wear two dresses.
-Why not?
-Because that would be ridiculous.
-You're marrying me. You've already accepted ridiculousness as a permanent condition.
She laughed and leaned against the sofa. Paul watched her for a moment. Then he said,
-Corlowall spoke to me today.
-About the western command?
-Yes.
-Did he offer it?
-Not officially.
-But he will.
-Probably.
Veronica placed the fabric samples aside.
-My field command review is also next month.
-I know.
-Then we're both going to be busy.
-Apparently.
She looked at him. -Are you reconsidering?
-No.
-You answered too quickly.
-I'm not reconsidering the marriage.
-I meant the command.
Paul leaned back against the sofa.
-I don't know.
Veronica nodded slowly.
-That's fair.
-I want it.
-I know.
-I also don't want it.
-I know that too.
He glanced at her. -You're becoming irritatingly good at that.
-I've had practice.
Paul looked down at his hands.
-If I take it, I'll be away more.
-Yes.
-If you take yours, you'll be away more.
-Yes.
-We could end up barely seeing each other.
-We already barely see each other compared to normal couples.
-That's not comforting.
-It wasn't meant to be.
He turned toward her.
-Do you want the position?
Veronica took time before answering.
-Yes.
-Why?
-Because I'm good at it.
-That's not enough.
-It should be.
Paul nodded.
She continued, -I spent years proving I could do the work. I don't want to reject an opportunity just because I'm afraid it might interfere with our marriage.
Paul looked away. Veronica touched his wrist.
-But I also don't want the work to become the only thing we're good at.
He looked back at her.
-That's what I'm afraid of.
-Then we'll have to be deliberate.
-Deliberate?
-We'll schedule time.
He gave her a tired look.
-Romance by appointment."
-Don't mock it. You schedule everything.
-I don't schedule romance.
-You scheduled this marriage.
-I organized it.
-You gave it an operation title.
-That was a secret.
-It was on the dining table.
Paul sighed. Veronica leaned closer.
-We can't control what OPESTM asks from us. But we can decide what we give each other.
He said nothing.
She continued, -If we accept these positions, we'll have to work harder. Not because our relationship is weak. Because our lives are demanding.
Paul studied her face.
-And if we can't?
-Then we figure out something else.
-You say that like it's simple.
-It won't be simple.
-Good. I was worried you were about to make it sound simple.
She smiled.
Paul took her hand.
-I don't want to miss the wedding.
-You won't.
-You can't promise that.
Veronica's smile faded slightly.
-No, she said. -I can't.
The room became still. Paul tightened his fingers around hers. Then she added,
-But I can promise that I'll keep choosing it.
He looked at her.
-The wedding?
-Us.
They told their families the following weekend. There were questions. Too many questions. Some were practical. Some were emotional. Some were completely unnecessary. Mpho attended through a video call and interrupted every five minutes.
-Have you decided who will give the speech? Mpho asked.
-No, Veronica said.
-I have prepared one.
-No, Paul said.
-You haven't heard it.
-That's why I'm saying no.
Mpho ignored him. -It begins with the history of your relationship.
Veronica looked at Paul. -How long?
-Twenty-seven minutes.
-Absolutely not.
-Twenty-five if I remove the introduction.
Paul reached toward the screen. -I'm ending this call.
-You can't silence history.
-I can silence you.
Mpho grinned. -You're both going to be excellent parents.
The room quieted for half a second. Paul glanced at Veronica. She noticed. Mpho did too, but for once, he did not make another joke.
Veronica rested her hand over Paul's. The conversation moved on.
Later, after everyone had left and the apartment had become quiet again, Paul stood in the kitchen washing glasses. Veronica sat on the counter.
-You didn't say anything when Mpho mentioned children.
Paul rinsed a glass.
-I didn't know what to say.
-You don't have to say anything.
-I want children.
She looked at him.
-I know.
-I mean eventually.
-Hmm.
He dried the glass and placed it beside the sink. Paul leaned against the counter.
-I used to think we should wait until everything was stable.
-Everything will never be stable.
-I know.
-Then we wait until we're ready.
-And how do we know?
-We won't.
Paul looked at her.
She shrugged. -That seems to be the theme of our lives.
He laughed quietly. Veronica reached for his hand.
-We don't have to solve the rest of our lives tonight.
-No?
-No. Tonight we only have to decide whether you're washing those glasses properly."
Paul looked at the glass.
-I am.
-You missed a spot.
He turned it toward the light.
-Where?
-Near the rim.
-C'mon it's not a big crime to leave that much.
-It is
Paul handed her the glass.
-Then arrest me.
She took it, inspected it, and placed it back in the sink.
-Guilty.
He stepped closer.
-What's the sentence?
Veronica looked at him.
-Three months of wedding preparation.
-That's excessive.
-Six months.
-Cruel.
She smiled. Paul wrapped his arms around her waist. For a while, they remained like that in the kitchen, surrounded by unfinished chores, wedding papers, and a future neither of them could fully see.
The date was written on the calendar. The venue was almost decided. The guest list was still under attack from Mpho. Their careers were becoming more demanding. Nothing was certain.
But the promise was no longer floating somewhere ahead of them. It had a date. It had a place. It had witnesses.
And, for the first time, it had begun to feel real. Three weeks later, Veronica stood in the bathroom staring at the small white object in her hand. She had taken the test twice. The first time, she had convinced herself she had read it incorrectly.
The second time, there had been no room for confusion. She sat on the edge of the bathtub. Outside, she could hear Paul moving around the apartment. He was humming.
Badly.
He had been trying to repair a cabinet door for the last twenty minutes, despite the fact that the cabinet door had not been broken before he touched it.
-Paul, she called.
-Give me a minute.
She looked down at the test again.
-Paul.
-I'm almost done.
-You should probably stop.
There was a pause. Then the sound of something falling.
-Why?
Veronica stared at the bathroom door. Because she didn't know how to say it. Because the words felt too large. Because suddenly, every plan they had made seemed to open into something much bigger. Paul appeared in the doorway, holding a screwdriver.
-What happened, Sugarbear?
Veronica looked at him. For once, she had no sarcastic answer ready. Paul's expression changed. He lowered the screwdriver.
-Veronica?
She stood. He took one step toward her.
-What is it?
She held out the test. Paul looked at it. Then at her. Then back at it. His face slowly emptied of every thought.
-Are you sure? he asked.
Veronica nodded.
-I took it twice.
He stared at her.
-Twice?
-Yes.
-Both…
-Yes, Paul.
He looked down again. The screwdriver slipped from his hand and struck the floor. Neither of them noticed. Paul took another step toward her.
-Are we…..
-Yes.
He stopped. His mouth opened, but no words came. Veronica watched him struggle to understand something that could not be measured, planned, or controlled.
Then Paul laughed once. A small, disbelieving sound. He covered his face with both hands. Veronica stepped closer.
-Paul?
He lowered his hands. His eyes were wet.
-Are we really going to have a baby?
She smiled.
-I think that's what the test is trying to tell us.
He looked at her for a long moment. Then he pulled her into his arms. He held her carefully at first, as though she had suddenly become something fragile. Veronica pressed her face against his chest. Paul's arms tightened around her.
Outside the bathroom, the cabinet door remained half-detached. The wedding plans were still scattered across the dining table.
The date was still marked on the calendar. But none of it felt like the most important thing anymore. Paul rested his cheek against her hair.
-We're going to be parents, he whispered.
Veronica closed her eyes.
-Yes.
For a long time, neither of them moved. They had spent years fighting for the future. Now, for the first time, the future was already inside her.
To be continued...