Chapter 3: A Soldier’s Secret

Adam Harris looked every inch the war hero—broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed, his eyes bright as new coins, his dress blues crisp and tailored.

No wonder the women at the pharmacy whispered about him, or the girls at the church peeked from behind bouquets, dreaming of the medals on his chest and that square-jawed smile.

Inside the bridal suite, we sat stiffly while the matron recited her blessings, both of us moving like puppets through the rituals.

At last, the endless ceremony faded and the guests slipped away, leaving only silence in their wake.

Adam gave a tired half-smile.

"Long day. Let’s get some sleep."

"Whatever you say, Adam."

I peeled off the elaborate hairpins and heavy wedding dress, settling onto the far side of the bed.

In my last life, Tanya screamed at Adam for not being a man. I knew he couldn’t—or wouldn’t—consummate the marriage, so I never asked.

Now, I watched him, wondering about the battles he’d fought—on the field and in his own mind. The quiet stretched between us, not hostile, just thick with things unsaid. Maybe, in another life, we could’ve been more than this.