General and I

THE RETURN

The morning air smelled of promise and dust. The city was just waking up, and inside Leah’s small apartment, warmth and movement filled every corner. Jenah was folding clothes with practiced ease while Maya fluttered around, trying to help but mostly making a mess.

Leah’s duffel bag lay open on the bed, already filled to the brim this time, not hastily packed like before, but carefully arranged. Her uniform was pressed, her boots polished, her folded notes tucked in neatly beside a small photo of Maya and Jenah. Everything about this morning felt different.

She wasn’t just going back to camp; she was returning with resolve.

The week away had cleared her mind and stirred something unfamiliar inside her. Thoughts of him of General Damien had followed her everywhere, stubborn as her own heartbeat. She still didn’t know what to call it admiration, confusion, something softer? Whatever it was, she’d decided to face it, not run from it.

Jenah broke her thoughts. “You’ve packed like you’re going for a year,” she teased, closing the zipper for her.

Leah smiled faintly. “Maybe I am.”

Maya popped her head through the doorway, a small lunch bag in hand. “You can’t go without this. It’s my secret recipe.”

Leah’s eyes softened. “Thank you, chef.” She crouched and hugged her sister tight, breathing in the faint scent of her hair that hospital smell slowly fading from her skin.

The drive to camp was quiet. Jenah kept the conversation light, but Leah’s gaze often drifted out the window, lost in thought. The camp gates came into view faster than expected tall, silver, and gleaming under the sun like a mirror reflecting both her fear and her hope.

When the car stopped, Maya and Jenah got out with her to help with her bags. Soldiers moved about briskly near the entrance, their uniforms crisp, their laughter carrying on the wind. Leah’s heart squeezed. It felt like coming home to a place that didn’t always welcome her but somehow still owned a piece of her.

Then, a sleek black convoy turned into the lot, engines purring like panthers. Three uniformed aides stepped down first, opening the door for a woman in a pearl-white dress and heels that didn’t belong anywhere near red earth.

Ann emerged next.

She wore an expensive custom-made uniform softer fabric, polished boots, diamond-studded wristwatch glinting in the sun. Her blonde hair was pinned in perfect curls beneath her cap, not a strand out of place. Two assistants followed behind her, carrying designer boxes silk sheets, a private coffee maker, and, of all things, a pink duffel embroidered with her initials.

Maya blinked, her mouth slightly open. “Who’s that?”

Jenah adjusted her sunglasses, studying the scene. “That,” she said dryly, “is what money looks like when it forgets where it is.”

Leah’s lips curved in a restrained smile. She didn’t say anything, but she could feel the familiar tension creep up her spine.

Ann didn’t even glance their way. She walked ahead like the earth had rolled itself flat beneath her boots. Her parents followed closely, shaking hands with a few senior officers as if this was a charity gala instead of a military base. Her father’s laughter carried through the gate full, confident, and knowing.

“They must have donated something,” Jenah murmured under her breath.

And she was right. Rumor had already spread through the gates the Parker family had made a hefty donation to the camp’s rehabilitation fund. In return, Ann had been granted a private quarter, newly furnished, conveniently located not far from General Damien’s.

Leah felt an odd twist in her chest when she overheard it from a passing cadet. It wasn’t jealousy not exactly. Just the dull ache of knowing how differently the world treated people.

Don’t mind them,” Jenah said softly, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Walk your path, Leah. You’ve earned your space here.”

Leah nodded, gripping her bag tighter. “I know.”

They walked her to the checkpoint where the new assignments were being handed out. A sergeant scanned Leah’s name on the list and nodded briskly. “Leah Harper. Quarters B-9, Building Three. You’re with Natasha Rivers.”

Leah’s lips parted in surprise, a small smile forming. “Natasha?”

“Yes “She arrived yesterday.”

“That’s perfect,” Leah said, unable to hide the relief in her voice.

Jenah chuckled softly. “Well, looks like luck’s on your side.”

Maya tugged Leah’s sleeve. “Can we see where you’ll stay?”

“Not allowed past this point, little one,” the sergeant said kindly.

Leah knelt, hugging Maya once more, whispering into her ear, “Be good, okay? And listen to Jenah. No skipping of medicine”

Maya nodded quickly, eyes bright with unshed tears. “Promise.”

Jenah smiled faintly. “Text me when you get settled. You’re allowed to use phones now, right?”

Leah nodded. “Finally.”

Jenah’s tone softened. “Then call. Not when you need something when you don’t. Just so I know you’re okay.”

Leah’s voice wavered slightly. “I will.”

They watched her walk through the gate, her small figure swallowed by the tall walls of the camp once again.

Inside, the air was buzzing with new energy. Trucks unloaded supplies, cadets greeted each other, laughter mingled with shouts. The new quarters were lined along a paved road shaded by tall pine trees quieter, cleaner, and better furnished than the barracks had been.

Leah found Building Three easily. When she opened the door to B-9, she was greeted by Natasha’s beaming face.

“Leah!” Natasha squealed, nearly dropping her phone as she ran to hug her. “Finally! I was praying they’d pair us,but we still have Ann’s minions around “

Leah hugged her back, laughing. “Me too. I missed you.”

“You won’t believe it,” Natasha said excitedly, leading her in. “We’ve got beds that don’t creak, an actual mirror, and guess what hot water.”

Leah blinked in disbelief. “Are you serious?”

“Completely. Oh, and we can use our phones now,though only in our rooms,. They lifted the restriction since training’s officially over.”

Leah grinned, pulling her phone from her pocket. It felt strange holding a piece of her old life again.

Natasha flopped on the bed. “The whole camp feels different now. Less shouting, more… breathing space. But Ann’s been parading like she owns the place. Her parents donated a truckload of things, so her quarter’s near the General’s.”

Leah set her bag down gently. “Of course.”

“She even has scented candles.” Natasha whispered dramatically.

Leah couldn’t help it she laughed. A full, soft, beautiful sound that she hadn’t made in a while.

By evening, the sun had melted into the horizon, painting the sky in molten gold and violet. The camp was calm, only the rhythmic sound of distant drills breaking the quiet. Leah decided to take a short walk to clear her mind.

She walked past the training field, the air cooler now, smelling faintly of rain. Crickets sang between the trees.

Then she froze.

Up ahead, near the corner where the lamplight dimmed, stood a figure tall, broad-shouldered, his uniform jacket unbuttoned at the collar. He was leaning slightly against the railing, head tilted toward the horizon as if lost in thought.

Damien.

Her breath caught in her throat.

He turned slightly, and their eyes met steady, quiet, loaded with unspoken memory.

“General,” she said softly, straightening.

His lips twitched into the faintest smile. “At ease, Harper.”

Her hands fidgeted. “I… just arrived. Was taking a walk.”

“I can see that,” he said, voice low, carrying that calm authority that always sent a shiver down her spine. “How’s your sister?”

“She’s better.”

He nodded, the ghost of relief flashing in his eyes. “Good. I’m glad.”

There was silence. The kind that stretched and wrapped around them not awkward, but weighted. The air between them shifted, heavy with all the things neither could say.

Finally, Damien straightened, his gaze soft but unreadable. “Welcome back, Leah.”

She swallowed hard, her heart drumming in her chest. “Thank you… sir.”

He gave a single nod and walked past her, his scent lingering faintly of soap and rain and something deeper she couldn’t name.

Leah stood there long after he’d gone, her pulse still loud in her ears, the quiet night suddenly feeling far too alive.