Mission#1: Combat and Cafe's

Chapter 9: Ghosts? or Ghosted?

Solei hadn’t seen Leo in two days.

Not that she was counting, or panicking, or secretly staring at her phone every time it lit up.

Okay, maybe she was.

Just a little.

Was he busy? Did she do something wrong? Was he sick? kidn*pped? Reassigned to a mission in the jungle?

No. That was dramatic. She was spiraling.

She messaged him once.

“Hey, you okay?”

No reply.

Not even “delivered.”

So she waited.

And waited.

By the third day, she was pacing in front of her favorite café, matcha untouched, biting her straw.

Then suddenly—there he was.

Standing at the entrance, hoodie over his head, looking tired. Not rugged, not charming, just… tired.

“Leo!”

He looked up. And when he saw her, the walls in his face cracked a little.

“Solei.”

She rushed toward him. “Where were you?! I thought something happened! You didn’t reply, I—”

He gently reached out and placed a hand on her arm. “I’m sorry.”

She paused. “Are you okay?”

Leo looked down. “Someone I served with… passed away. Sudden accident. We were close.”

Solei’s eyes widened. “Leo, I—I’m so sorry.”

“I didn’t know how to say it. I didn’t want to bring you into something heavy.”

He smiled faintly. “You’re my light spot.”

She pulled him into a hug without thinking. A tight, warm, no-words kind of hug.

And for a moment, Leo let himself lean into it.

“You don’t always have to be okay around me,” she whispered. “You’re not a hero here. You’re just… you.”

He swallowed hard. “I needed to hear that.”

They sat together after that. Quiet. Side by side on the café bench.

They sat in silence for a while, the kind of silence that wasn’t awkward, but full—like the air knew it had to be soft with them. Solei didn’t press him with more questions. She just sat close enough for him to know she was there.

Leo rubbed his palms together. “We used to joke about stupid things just to stay sane. Me and Ramos. We were posted in the middle of nowhere, heat so bad the soles of our boots would stick to the ground. But he always found a way to laugh. Even when things were hell.”

Solei turned toward him, watching how the memories folded into his expression.

“I can still hear him yelling at me because I poured too much hot sauce in the rations,” he said, smiling faintly. “He said I was trying to kill him slowly.”

She gave a small laugh. “Sounds like he was family.”

“He was,” Leo said quietly. “And now he’s gone, and I wasn’t even there to say goodbye.”

Solei reached over and gently took his hand. “You’re here. But you’re still carrying all of them with you, aren’t you?”

He nodded. “Sometimes I feel guilty for smiling. Or sitting here. Drinking overpriced matcha with a girl who makes my chest feel weird.”

Her brows raised. “Weird?”

“In a good way,” he said quickly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “Like… safe. Like I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder.”

Solei squeezed his hand. “Then don’t. You’re safe here. With me.”

Leo looked at her, really looked, and for the first time in days, something in him softened. “You’re the only thing in my life right now that feels easy. And real.”

“That’s because I am,” she said. “You don’t have to impress me, Leo. I already like the messy, tired, too-many-thoughts version of you.”

He took a breath like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it.

“Thanks for not walking away when I disappear for a while,” he said.

“I get it,” she replied. “Sometimes the world gets loud. But when you come back, I’ll be here. Probably with matcha. Possibly with brownies.”

He gave her a tired smile. “You’re dangerous, Solei.”

“Why?”

“Because you make staying look like peace.”

She leaned her head on his shoulder, just for a second. “Then stay.”

He didn’t answer with words. He just turned his head and rested his chin lightly against her hair.

And that was enough.

Later that night, Solei lay in bed with her phone on her chest, rereading old messages. Her diary sat open beside her, blank page halfway filled.

"Leo’s eyes weren’t sparkling today.

They looked like a storm.

I wanted to be his umbrella.

Or even just his cup of matcha.

He’s grieving. And I don’t know how to fix it.

But I’ll sit beside the storm. Even if it rains on me, too.”