The world was muffled noise and distant echoes when Ethan drifted back into consciousness.
Pain hit first—sharp, radiating through his ribs, his skull throbbing with a dull, relentless pulse. Then came the ringing. Then the sand. He tasted it on his tongue, felt it gritting between his teeth.
He tried to open his eyes.
Light stabbed into his vision.
He groaned.
"He's alive! Ethan!" Camila's voice cracked somewhere nearby.
Hands grabbed him, pulled him upright. His head swayed violently, nausea rising.
"Stay with me! Look at me—look at me!" Camila ordered, shaking his shoulder.
He blinked until her face came into focus—dust smeared across her cheek, helmet crooked, eyes wild with fear.
"C… Camila," he whispered, barely audible.
"Thank God." But her relief lasted only a heartbeat. Bullets whizzed overhead, thudding into the barrier behind them. She jerked, shielding him instinctively. "We have to move!"
Ethan tried to stand—his legs buckled.
"Damn it," Camila hissed, hooking her arm under him. "You're hurt bad."
"I'm fine," he muttered even though he was anything but. His vision blurred again. His limbs felt like wet sandbags.
"Shut up," Camila snapped. "You're not dying today."
She dragged him behind a concrete slab as another blast shook the ground.
"Enemy retreating!" someone shouted. "Fall back to secondary point!"
Camila lifted her radio. "I've got Bennett! He's injured—severe concussion, maybe more. Requesting evac!"
Static. Gunfire. More static.
Then: "Negative. Evac zones compromised. Hold position."
"Hold position? He's bleeding out!" Camila screamed into the mic.
Ethan touched his head. His fingers came away red.
Not great.
He felt himself slipping again, the edges of the world trembling.
Camila slapped his cheek—hard.
"Ethan! Stay awake!"
His eyes fluttered. "Don't… hit me…"
"Then don't pass out!"
She tore a cloth from her uniform, pressing it to the wound on his head.
He winced.
"It's okay," she whispered roughly, even though her voice shook. "You're okay. I've got you."
He tried to focus—on her voice, on anything.
For a moment, he thought of Sofia.
Her eyes.
Her laugh.
The last time he kissed her forehead.
He tried to whisper her name but the sound never escaped.
The world dimmed again.
---
Thousands of miles away, Sofia stared at the ceiling of her dark room, exhausted but unable to sleep.
Her eyes were swollen from crying.
Her chest was still tight.
She had class in the morning.
She didn't care.
She reached for her phone again.
Still nothing.
She opened Ethan's last message: Stay strong. I'm okay.
Her throat closed.
She typed a reply. Deleted it. Typed again. Deleted. Finally sent three simple words:
Please be safe.
The message stayed "Delivered."
Not "Read."
Sofia curled into herself, tears slipping silently along her cheeks.
"Come back to me," she whispered into the darkness. "Please…"
---
Morning brought no peace.
Sofia dragged herself to the culinary academy, arriving late to class with trembling hands. Her classmates whispered, but she ignored them.
During a knife skills drill, her instructor approached again.
"Romano," she said, gentler this time, "come with me."
Sofia followed weakly into the office.
"You're not well," her teacher said.
Sofia's voice cracked. "Something happened. I can feel it."
"Do you have confirmation?"
"No," Sofia whispered. "But something's wrong."
Her instructor studied her quietly. "Is he deployed in a danger zone?"
"Yes."
"Then fear is natural. But you cannot fall apart before knowing."
Sofia lowered her head, tears threatening.
"Take the day," her teacher said. "Clear your mind. Rest. If you want to talk, my door is open."
Sofia nodded slowly, grateful yet unable to speak.
But as she stepped out of the office, her phone buzzed.
Her entire body froze.
She snatched it from her pocket.
A message from an unknown number.
United States Military:
This is an automated message confirming that Specialist Ethan Bennett's unit was involved in a security incident on [redacted location].
At this time, the status of individual personnel is under assessment.
Additional updates will follow.
Her heart stopped.
Her knees nearly buckled.
She pressed a hand to the wall, breath shattering.
No details.
No reassurance.
Just cold terror.
"No… no, no…" she whispered, shaking violently.
She re-read the message again and again until her vision blurred.
A single, numb thought filled her mind:
He might be hurt.
He might be gone.
He might never come back.
---
Back in the combat zone, the threat finally passed. Hostile forces retreated into the darkness, leaving smoke and destruction behind.
Camila half-carried, half-dragged Ethan toward the medic tent.
"Stay awake," she begged. "Ethan! Look at me!"
His head lolled.
His breathing was uneven.
"Medic!" she screamed. "I need a medic!"
A paramedic rushed over, pulling Ethan from her grasp and laying him on a stretcher.
"What happened?"
"Blast impact to the head—possible concussion or worse—bleeding, disoriented—he's fading!"
The medic checked his pulse. "He's still with us."
Still.
Camila covered her mouth, swallowing back sobs. "Please save him."
The medic pushed adrenaline into Ethan's IV. "We'll do everything we can."
Camila grabbed Ethan's hand.
"Don't leave," she whispered. "Not like this. Not now."
His fingers twitched weakly.
She bit back tears.
"You promised Sofia you'd return," she whispered, voice breaking. "Don't you dare break it."
Ethan didn't answer.
His breathing grew shallow.
His eyes stayed closed.
Camila felt ice spreading through her veins.
She leaned closer, whispering a desperate plea:
"Fight, Ethan. Fight for her."
---
In another part of the world, Sofia slid to the floor of the academy hallway, phone trembling in her hand, tears dripping silently.
Her heart felt like it was tearing apart.
She whispered the same words Camila had said at the same moment, without knowing:
"Please… fight."
---
The chapter ends with Ethan unconscious, his condition uncertain, Sofia receiving her worst fear confirmed, and Camila refusing to give up on him.