The clock had barely struck 7 when Commander Henderson Jonathan stepped into the grand manor once more, his boots pressing softly against the polished marble, still wet from the evening mists. The soldiers at the gate had saluted him in perfect posture, but he barely nodded in return.
His usually sharp, calculating eyes were… somewhere else.
A place of silk ribbons and whispered goodnights.
He had left the battlefield hours earlier, but the war hadn't left him. Not the one outside. No, this one was far more dangerous. It came in the form of a girl in pale lace dresses who walked barefoot on the grass, who spoke to birds like they were dear friends, who brought him peace without asking for anything in return…
Sofia.
He had stood before the jeweler's window for fifteen minutes earlier.. fifteen agonizing minutes. His gloved hands clenched behind his back, eyes narrowed at the delicate bracelet with the tiniest, sparkling charm shaped like a feather.
It was the kind of trinket a man bought for someone who mattered.
And Sofia… she mattered far more than he could allow.
So he turned on his heel and walked away.
He wasn't a man of sentiment. His world didn't allow it. War didn't make room for love.
But fate, it seemed, had a different plan.
When he entered his bedroom, intending to bury his guilt under military reports and solitary dinner, something caught his attention.. a softness that didn't belong to his world.
There, on his nightstand.
A bouquet.
Fresh roses.
From her garden.
The petals were still dewy from the evening breeze, lovingly arranged and tied with a pale pink silk ribbon.
Jonathan blinked once. Then twice.
Scent. Soft vanilla with a hint of caramel. So very Sofia.
And then..
The note.
His fingers trembled slightly as he opened the folded card. The handwriting was gentle, the loops delicate like lace:
"My love…
Thank you for the cuddles… for the warmth…
For the safety and peace I felt in your embrace last night…
Please visit me often.
Yours… forever faithful…
Your Sofia."
The commander, the cold-blooded legend of battlefields… forgot how to breathe.
He stared.
Blinking.
Processing.
Then..
"WHAT… IS THIS.." he muttered, staggering back as if the note had fired a bullet straight into his chest.
The air around him grew warmer as if mocking his flustered confusion. The candles flickered. The rose petals shimmered with soft defiance.
"A confession?" he whispered, aloud this time. "Did she.. what the hell is this supposed to mean.. my love.. 'visit me often'?!"
His hand ran through his perfectly combed hair, ruffling it for the first time in a decade. His soldiers would've fainted at the sight.
He placed the note down.
Picked it back up.
Read it again.
"Yours… forever faithful."
"Stop it," he barked at the roses. "You're not allowed to do this." But the roses, the scent, the note.. they just giggled back silently.
His mind scrambled. His ears burned. The tip of his nose turned pink. And all he could think of was that night.. the way she had clung to him without fear… the way her lashes trembled as she murmured in her sleep… "You feel like peace."
He hadn't felt this disarmed since his first gun misfired in training.
Pacing the room like a trapped lion, he muttered under his breath.
"She's a noblewoman… and I'm… I'm not meant to be this…"
Suddenly.. a knock.
He snapped around.
"Who is it?" His voice came out too sharp, too strained.
The door opened a crack, revealing one of the young maids, blushing.
"Sir… um… Lady Sofia asked if you'd… like to join her for a walk in the garden. The stars are… quite lovely tonight."
His jaw clenched. "Tell her I.. " he started, but his heart pulled the reins. The trembling note, the scent of vanilla, the warmth of last night…
He took a long breath.
"I'll be there in five."
The maid blinked. "Sir?"
He sighed. "That'll be all."
She curtsied and disappeared behind the door.
And Jonathan stood frozen. A man torn between duty and a blooming rose.
In the Garden of Silk Confessions
Sofia was standing near the central fountain, her shawl wrapped loosely around her shoulders. The moonlight kissed her skin as if it had known her for centuries. Her fingers brushed the petals of a rose not yet fully bloomed.
She didn't turn when she heard him approaching. She just smiled gently and whispered, "It's warmer tonight, isn't it?"
He stopped a few steps behind her.
"…Yes." His voice came out softer than usual. "It is."
She turned then, eyes gentle, smile genuine. "Did you get my note?"
"…I did." He looked everywhere but at her. "You… write boldly for a lady."
Sofia giggled.. an innocent, heart-flipping sound. "It wasn't meant to be bold. Just honest."
He finally looked at her. Her cheeks were tinted pink, her hair shimmering like silk in the moonlight.
"I've never received a letter like that," he confessed.
"Is that… a bad thing?" she asked cautiously.
He stepped closer. "It's the kind of letter that makes a man question everything."
Her eyes searched his. "And did it make you… want to run away?"
"No," he whispered, almost painfully. "It made me want to… stay."
Her breath hitched. The fountain behind them bubbled softly. A breeze rustled the roses.
Then.. his hand reached out. Bare, warm, trembling just slightly.
And touched hers.
Gently.
Slowly.
Like he was learning how to feel again.
"Thank you," he said quietly. "For making me feel like I'm more than just a soldier."
Sofia's eyes glistened. "And thank you… for holding me like I wasn't made of porcelain."
Silence fell between them. Soft, understanding, golden silence.
Until he added, in a slightly annoyed mutter..
"…And stop sending me things that smell like vanilla and caramel. It makes thinking clearly very difficult."
She burst into laughter.
And for the first time…
Jonathan laughed too.