General and I

BENEATH THE QUIET SKY

The camp had long gone silent.

Only the distant hum of the night breeze and the soft creak of the flagpole filled the air. The moon hung pale above Camp Valour, spilling silvery light through the small window beside Leah’s bed.

But Leah couldn’t sleep.

She turned on her side, clutching her phone, reading and rereading the message that had come barely twenty minutes ago.

From: Dr. M. Lewis

Good evening, Miss Harper. We’ve just received full payment for your sister’s surgery and post-care. The transaction was made anonymously. Congratulations Maya’s treatment will commence next week.

Her heart had stopped for a beat when she first read it.

Someone had paid. All of it.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she reread the words, the glow of the phone screen reflecting in her wide eyes.

“Who would…” she whispered to herself.

Across the room, Natasha stirred. “Leah? You’re still awake?”

Leah turned, lowering her voice. “Natasha… someone paid for Maya’s surgery.”

That made Natasha sit up immediately, rubbing her eyes. “Wait, what? Are you serious?”

Leah nodded, her voice shaking. “It came just now the doctor messaged me. It’s fully covered. Everything.”

Natasha blinked in surprise, then broke into a sleepy grin. “That’s amazing! Leah, that’s… wow! That’s a miracle!”

Leah smiled faintly, though confusion clouded her joy. “But I don’t know who did it. The doctor said it was anonymous.”

“Maybe one of your mum’s old friends?” Natasha suggested.

Leah shook her head slowly. “No one even knows where we live now. Besides, who’d pay that much money for someone they barely know?”

Silence hung between them for a moment. The hum of the ceiling fan filled the room.

Natasha yawned softly. “You’ll find out eventually. Maybe it’s someone watching out for you.”

But Leah couldn’t rest. Her mind kept circling around the thought like a restless bird. Gratitude mixed with confusion, and beneath that, a strange warmth she couldn’t name.

Finally, she gave up trying to sleep. She slipped off her bed quietly, pulling on her jacket over her training shirt.

“Leah?” Natasha murmured.

“I’ll just take some air,” Leah whispered. “I can’t sleep.”

Natasha smiled faintly. “Don’t stay out too long, or you’ll get detention again.”

Leah chuckled quietly and slipped out of the quarters.

The night air was cold against her skin. Dew gathered on the grass, catching the faint light of the moon. The camp lay in eerie silence a place that by day was filled with commands, drills, and motion, now hushed as if holding its breath.

Her feet carried her without thought to the place she always went when she needed peace the small, hidden clearing behind the west training field. It wasn’t much, just an open patch where the stars could be seen without obstruction.

She hugged herself against the chill and sat down on the wooden bench, breathing deeply.

But she wasn’t alone.

A quiet crunch of boots on gravel made her look up sharply. A tall figure emerged from the shadows, the moonlight catching the glint of silver on his wristwatch.

Damien.

He was in casual wear plain black trousers, an open-collar shirt, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. His hair was slightly ruffled, as though he, too, hadn’t slept.

Their eyes met, and Leah shot up from the bench immediately. “SirI’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“At ease,” he said softly. “You’re not breaking any rules.”

His tone wasn’t cold this time. It was quiet, measured almost gentle.

“I could say the same about you, sir,” she said after a moment. “You’re not supposed to be out here either.”

He gave a faint smile. “Perks of rank.”

She exhaled, sitting down again, though her heart still raced.

After a moment, Damien moved closer, standing near the bench but not sitting. “You couldn’t sleep?”

Leah hesitated. “No. I got… news.”

His gaze flicked toward her. “Good or bad?”

“I… I think it’s good.” She paused, then took out her phone, unlocking it and showing him the message. “The hospital sent this. Someone paid for my sister’s surgery. Everything.”

Damien’s brows lifted slightly, though his expression stayed composed. “That’s… a relief,” he said, his voice calm. “You must feel lighter.”

Leah nodded slowly. “I do. But it’s strange, not knowing who did it. I’ve been thinking, maybe it’s a mistake, or”

“It’s not a mistake,” he interrupted quietly.

She blinked at him, confused. “How do you know?”

His eyes shifted away to the stars, their reflection faint in his dark irises. “Because good things don’t happen by mistake, Leah. Someone wanted you to have peace.”

His words lingered in the air, quiet and certain. For a moment, she felt like he was saying more than what his lips allowed.

Leah looked down, fidgeting with her fingers. “It feels… overwhelming. I didn’t even know how to thank whoever did it.”

“Sometimes, you don’t have to,” he said simply. “Just live well enough that the gesture wasn’t wasted.”

Leah stared at him for a moment, then smiled faintly. “You talk like someone who’s done that before.”

Damien gave a quiet chuckle. “Maybe I have.”

Silence settled between them not uncomfortable, but heavy with unspoken things.

The crickets sang softly in the background, and the wind stirred a few leaves from the trees.

Then Damien asked, “How’s your sister?”

“She’s… strong. Stronger than me, I think.” Leah’s voice softened, her eyes distant. “She keeps smiling no matter how much pain she’s in. Sometimes I think she smiles for me, so I don’t lose hope.”

Damien’s gaze lingered on her face, studying her the sincerity in her words, the faint tremor in her voice.

“You carry a lot for someone your age,” he said finally.

Leah smiled faintly. “Maybe life just trained me early.”

“That’s not how it should be.”

She looked at him, surprised by the quiet emotion in his tone.

“People your age should be worrying about love, or college, or… anything but survival,” he said softly.

Leah looked down, her voice barely a whisper. “I used to think about those things. Before my parents died.”

He didn’t speak for a while. Then, quietly, “I’m sorry.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I stopped expecting the world to be kind. It makes moments like this easier to handle.”

Damien’s lips twitched into a faint, bittersweet smile. “That’s a dangerous way to live.”

“Maybe. But it’s honest.”

The wind carried her words between them.

For a moment, he said nothing only looked at her, really looked. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, and in the pale glow of moonlight, she looked fragile but unyielding. Like a candle refusing to die in the storm.

Leah noticed his gaze and cleared her throat, embarrassed. “You should probably go back, sir. People might misunderstand if they see us talking here.”

“Let them,” he said simply.

She blinked. “Sir?”

He met her eyes again, and something about his calm made her chest tighten. “A soldier who feels too much is seen as weak. But I think sometimes, the only thing keeping us human is feeling at all.”

For a second, neither of them breathed a word .

Then Damien looked away, clearing his throat as if shaking off the moment. “You should get some rest, Cadet Harper. Tomorrow will be worse.”

Leah smiled faintly. “I’ll take your word for it.”

He turned to leave but stopped halfway, glancing back over his shoulder. “Leah.”

The sound of her name from his lips made her heart skip.

“Yes, sir?”

“I’m glad your sister’s getting help,” he said quietly. “She deserves it.”

And with that, he walked away, his footsteps fading into the dark.

Leah sat there for a long time, her fingers wrapped tightly around her phone.

Her heart was still racing, though she couldn’t explain why.

All she knew was something had shifted tonight. Something quiet. Something dangerous.