General and I

THE HIDDEN GESTURES

The afternoon sunlight painted golden streaks across the little house Leah shared with her family. The air smelled of warm stew and laughter a scent that felt like home.

Maya had been unstoppable since they returned. She had barely dropped her bag before launching into an animated story about “the generals.”

“Jenah, you should’ve seen them!” Maya said excitedly, waving her spoon around. “They were both tall, like in those movies, but General Zach smiled a lot! He even bought us coffee!”

Jenah chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “And what about the other one?”

“The other one?” Maya paused, tilting her head. “Oh! General Damien. He’s scary, but I think he cares about Leah. He walked us to the car.”

Leah, sitting quietly at the table, froze mid-bite.

Jenah’s eyes flickered toward her, catching the tiny flush that rose to her cheeks. “Really?” she asked softly.

Leah quickly looked away. “He was just being polite.”

“Hmm.” Jenah’s knowing tone lingered in the air.

After dinner, Leah helped Maya to bed. The little girl clutched her hand sleepily. “Leah, do you like General Damien?”

Leah’s heart stumbled. “Why would you ask that?”

“Because you look at him the way I look at my chocolate,” Maya whispered with a giggle before drifting into sleep.

Leah sighed, brushing her sister’s hair gently. “You’re impossible.”

When she returned to the sitting room, Jenah was waiting. The lights were dimmed, and the soft hum of night insects filled the air.

“Alright,” Jenah began, crossing her legs. “Talk.”

Leah frowned slightly. “About what?”

Jenah smirked. “You’ve been quiet since dinner. That’s not my Leah. So, tell me what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Leah hesitated, her fingers playing with the edge of her sleeve. “I… don’t know. I feel disturbed. Every time I think about him, I feel something strange. It’s not like anything I’ve ever felt before. It’s… confusing.”

Jenah leaned forward, her voice gentle. “You’ve never been in love, have you?”

Leah shook her head slowly. “No. I don’t even know what it feels like. But whenever I’m near him, I can’t breathe properly. And when he looks at me…” she trailed off, her voice barely a whisper. “It feels like I’m standing in a storm I can’t escape.”

Jenah’s eyes softened. “Then maybe it’s time to stop running from the storm. But listen, Leah feelings are tricky. You’re young, and the world you’re in now is dangerous. If this man truly makes your heart race, take your time. Don’t rush into it.”

Leah nodded slowly, her eyes distant. “I just… don’t want to get hurt.”

Jenah reached out, holding her hand. “Then think carefully about what you feel for him when you go back to camp. Watch how he looks at you, how he treats you. Sometimes love isn’t loud it’s the silence that holds you.”

Leah smiled faintly, her heart heavy but comforted. “Thank you, Jenah.”

“Promise me something,” Jenah said softly. “Take care of yourself. For Maya, and for me.”

“I promise.”

Outside, the night deepened the stars faint against the city’s glow.

Inside that little home, Leah felt something new blooming inside her not love yet, but something dangerous enough to become it.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Morning light spilled through the glass walls of Damien’s private condo, reflecting against the pale marble floor and the gentle rhythm of the city below. The silence was broken only by the faint hum of classical music drifting from the built-in speakers.

He had barely slept. His mind was a storm he couldn’t quiet the image of Leah’s face last night, her trembling voice, the way her eyes softened when she looked at her sister. It shouldn’t affect him. It had no place in his world of rules, of control. Yet, the thought of her lingered like an uninvited ghost.

He had just poured himself a glass of black coffee when the intercom buzzed. His mother never waited for an invitation.

“Good morning, Damien,” she said as she entered, her perfume delicate but commanding, her pearl earrings glinting under the light. She was elegant as ever Mrs. Eleanor Cole, the kind of woman whose presence alone could silence a room.

“Mother,” Damien greeted, setting his cup down.

“I would’ve called, but I knew you’d ignore it,” she said, giving him a knowing look before sitting gracefully on the cream sofa. “I’ve been meaning to talk about Ann.”

Damien’s jaw flexed. “Mother, I’ve made myself clear about her.”

Eleanor sighed softly, folding her hands on her lap. “Ann is a sweet girl. She’s just… spirited. You know her mother and I have been friends since before you were born. I only ask that you be kinder to her. She’s still young.”

“She’s not a child,” Damien said, his tone firm. “And she doesn’t belong in that camp. She’s treating it like a playground.”

Eleanor’s expression softened into quiet pleading. “Then take her out. If you think she’s unfit, bring her home. I’ll handle the rest.”

“No,” Damien replied sharply, his voice echoing slightly in the room. “If she wants to prove herself, she’ll finish what she started. No special treatment.”

His mother studied him quietly, seeing the flicker of emotion he tried to suppress. “You’re strict, but not heartless. I know you, Damien.”

He looked away, his gaze distant. “This has nothing to do with heart, Mother. It’s about discipline.”

“Then at least show leniency,” she said gently. “For my sake. If not as a soldier, then as the woman who raised you.”

He exhaled slowly, running a hand through his hair. “I’ll… consider it.”

Eleanor smiled faintly. “That’s all I ask.” She stood, brushing invisible lint from her blouse. “You remind me so much of your grandfather. Strong. Focused. But sometimes, even strength needs a pause, Damien.”

After she left, the room fell silent again.

He stood there for a long time, staring at the half-empty cup of coffee. Leniency. The word echoed.

He thought of Leah again her quiet defiance, her fragility wrapped in determination.

Maybe his mother was right.

Maybe he was already losing control.

After his mother finally left the room, the silence felt heavier than before. Damien stood by the window, one hand resting in his pocket, the other clutching a glass of water he hadn’t even realized had gone warm. The night outside was still only the faint hum of crickets and the soft flicker of streetlights filled the air.

His mother’s words replayed in his mind “Ann is trying, Damien. You could at least show her some leniency.”

He exhaled sharply. Leniency? That wasn’t the problem. The problem was that he didn’t feel anything for Ann ,not irritation, not interest, just indifference. But with Leah…

Her name slipped into his thoughts uninvited.

The image of her eyes wide, pleading when she begged to stay at camp. The tremble in her voice when she spoke of her sister. The faint scent of her hair when she’d stood too close that night. He gritted his teeth and set the glass down on his desk, trying to shake her off, but the feeling wouldn’t fade.

With a low sigh, Damien reached for his phone.

“Mason,” he said when the line connected.

“Yes, sir?”

“I need you to make a private transfer. The hospital where Leah’s sister is admitted find out the exact bill amount. I want everything covered.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Should I put your name on the record, sir?”

“No,” Damien said flatly. “Make it anonymous. And Mason… never mind .”

“Yes, sir.”

He hung up and stared out at the dark skyline again.

It wasn’t love at least, that’s what he told himself. It was simply… responsibility. Compassion, maybe. The kind any superior should have toward his recruits.

But deep down, Damien knew that was a lie. Because the thought of Leah’s smile, that rare, soft curve of her lips, had already begun to burn in the back of his mind a flame he couldn’t seem to put out, no matter how hard he tried.

He took a deep breath, straightened his posture, and whispered to the night,

“Just this once, Leah. I’ll help you… just this once.”

But even as he turned away, a part of him already knew , it wouldn’t be the last time.