CHAPTER THREE: THE HOMECOMING HERO
419 Words
*Chapter 3 – Homecoming Hero*
The parade ground was alive with color and music, drums pounding like the echoes of war now drifting into celebration. Flags fluttered, children laughed, and soldiers in neat uniforms stood at attention. In the center of it all, on a raised wooden platform, stood *Lucien Darro*, the decorated captain of the Northern Front, his polished boots gleaming under the afternoon sun.
Liana watched from the side, her hands clasped tightly before her. Her eyes followed Lucien’s broad shoulders, the way he nodded stiffly at every cheer. There was pride in her town’s voice—relief even—but Liana couldn’t ignore the hollow beat of her own heart.
He looked... untouched.
Lucien had always been handsome—angular jaw, piercing eyes—but something about him now felt performative. As he raised a hand to quiet the crowd, his voice rang out clear and confident. “This victory was not mine alone. It belongs to every soul who stood by me, who bled beside me. And those who fell—we carry them in our hearts.”
The crowd roared in approval, some even moved to tears.
Liana turned away.
She remembered the man from the night weeks ago—the one who had crept into her bedroom, his uniform ragged, his words laced with doubt, irony, and pain. He had carried no medals, no pride. And yet... he had felt more real.
As the speech ended, Lucien made his way down the steps, greeted by his parents and flanked by townspeople eager to shake his hand. His eyes searched, and then—he saw her.
“Liana!” he called, his voice eager.
She smiled softly, composing herself. “Captain Darro,” she teased.
He laughed and reached out, pulling her into a careful embrace. “Please don’t call me that. Not you.”
“You’re a war hero now,” she said, a little colder than intended.
He took her hand. “I thought of you often. And now that I’m back, I want to talk... about us. About the future.”
Liana looked at him, at the crowd still cheering behind him. She wanted to feel warmth, excitement. But all she could remember was the quiet voice of the man in the shadows, saying that medals meant nothing when men died for lies.
She nodded anyway. “Alright. Later.”
He grinned. “Tonight then. There’s a celebration at the manor. Come.”
She agreed. But her heart wasn’t in it.
- Writer
