General and I

THE WEIGHT OF EXPECTATIONS

The sun rose over the camp in a soft orange haze, painting the horizon in streaks of gold. The entire compound was alive with energy boots pounding against the concrete, commands echoing from the parade ground, and the metallic scent of sweat and dust thick in the air.

Today was the day every recruit had been waiting for: The Elite Challenge.

The challenge wasn’t just another drill. It was a full-scale test of endurance, discipline, and leadership the same one that had earned Ann her moment of glory weeks ago. This time, the stakes were higher, and so were the expectations.

From the balcony above the field, General Damien Cole stood with his hands clasped behind his back. His posture was straight, his uniform pristine, his expression carved from stone. Beside him was General Zachary Trentt,leaning casually against the railing, eyes scanning the field below with an easy grin.

“Your team’s looking ready,” Zach remarked, tilting his head toward Leah’s group.

“They better be,” Damien replied curtly, though his gaze lingered on Leah longer than necessary.

She stood at the front of her group, calm and focused, her hair tied neatly under her cap. There was a quiet strength in her posture not arrogance, not fear, just steady determination.

Across the field, Ann adjusted her gloves with deliberate confidence. Her team stood in tight formation, eyes locked on her. Her uniform gleamed, her expression one of smug assurance. She didn’t need to look around to know she’d be first.

The whistle blew.

A roar of motion followed running, climbing, crawling through mud, hauling sandbags over obstacles. The ground trembled beneath dozens of racing feet. Sweat dripped, lungs burned, commands were shouted and obeyed.

From the observation deck, Zach chuckled.

“That one Leah she’s got heart. Look at her, she’s helping that cadet over the log instead of leaving him behind.”

Damien’s jaw tightened.

“Heart doesn’t win wars, Zach,” he said flatly. “Discipline does.”

Below, Leah reached down to pull a struggling recruit to their feet. Mud splashed across her face, but she didn’t stop. Her movements were slower now, but determined. Her team followed her example helping, pushing, working together.

Ann’s team, however, was all precision. She barked orders like a commander, never once glancing back to see if everyone was keeping up. Her only goal was the finish line, and she hit it first arms raised triumphantly as her group cheered.

Leah’s group crossed moments later, second place. Not first, but close. Leah exhaled deeply, her heart pounding, a faint smile breaking across her face at her team’s effort.

From above, Damien’s expression hardened.

He turned sharply and descended the stairs.

When the cadets assembled for debriefing, the tension was palpable. Ann stood straight, a smirk playing on her lips as Zach congratulated her team with a firm handshake.

Then came Leah’s turn. She approached Damien, chest still heaving from exhaustion. For a brief moment, their eyes met his cold, hers hopeful.

“You had one job, cadet Leah,” Damien began, his tone icy.

“Sir, yes sir—”

“Lead. Not drag your team down because one person couldn’t keep up.”

“I couldn’t just leave her behind—”

“You hesitated,” he cut in, voice sharp. “Out there, hesitation gets people killed. You think compassion wins battles? You think mercy changes outcomes?”

Leah swallowed, her throat dry.

“No, sir,” she said quietly.

His voice lowered but didn’t soften.

“You’re strong, Leah. But strength without focus is nothing.”

He turned on his heel, leaving her standing stiffly in the fading sunlight, the sting of his words cutting deeper than she wanted to admit.

The camp was quieter that evening.

Teams were dismissed early to prepare for the Elite Dinner, a tradition celebrating the competition’s completion.

Ann’s quarters buzzed with excitement and chatter. Perfume and luxury filled the air the soft hum of a hair dryer, laughter echoing off the walls, the clinking of jewelry boxes opening.

“You should’ve seen his face,” one of her friends giggled. “General Trent was practically glowing when you won.”

“He always does,” Ann said, inspecting her reflection in the mirror. “Men like him respect victory. And Damien?” She smirked. “He respects results. I gave him one.”

She slipped into a glimmering silver dress, the kind that caught the light like water.

“Tonight,” she said confidently, “I’ll remind everyone who belongs at the top.”

Across the hall, Leah’s room was quiet. Natasha sat cross-legged on her bed, trying to lighten the mood.

“You can’t mope all night. Come on, it’s dinner. There’ll be music. Maybe even free desserts.”

Leah chuckled softly, pulling her hair into a messy bun. “I just… I thought I did well. My team didn’t come last. We worked together.”

“And that’s what matters,” Natasha insisted. “Forget the general’s mood swings. You did the right thing.”

Leah nodded slowly. Still, Damien’s words wouldn’t leave her.

You’re strong, Leah. But strength without focus is nothing.

She exhaled and stood, slipping into her dress.

“Fine,” she said quietly. “Let’s go before I change my mind.”

The dining hall was alive with color and laughter when they arrived. Fairy lights hung from the ceiling, reflecting off polished steel tables. The smell of roasted chicken and spices filled the air.

Ann was already there, sitting near the front with her group, basking in attention. When she saw Leah walk in, her smile tightened but didn’t falter.

Damien and Zach entered a few minutes later. The chatter died instantly. Both men took their seats at the officers’ table, their presence commanding silent respect.

Throughout the dinner, Leah kept her eyes down, focusing on her plate. Natasha nudged her occasionally, whispering jokes, but Leah’s thoughts were elsewhere on the voice that had scolded her earlier, on the strange pull that anger couldn’t erase.

Across the hall, Damien looked up once. Just once.

His gaze found Leah’s unintentionally. She wasn’t laughing like the others. She sat quietly, shoulders tense, her expression thoughtful. Something in him twisted, a flash of guilt or curiosity he wasn’t sure which.

Ann noticed. Her smile faltered.

“Of course,” she muttered under her breath. “He always looks at her.”

After the dinner, Zach rose to make a short speech, praising both teams for their effort. His tone was warm and encouraging. When he mentioned Leah’s name, Damien’s eyes flickered briefly, but he said nothing.

As the recruits filed out, Leah felt a weight in her chest disappointment, confusion, maybe both. Damien walked past her without a word, his scent brushing faintly against her as he passed. It made her heart skip and ache at once.

Later that night, Damien sat alone in his quarters, the soft hum of the air conditioner filling the silence. He’d removed his jacket, unbuttoned his collar, and poured himself a glass of whiskey.

On the table before him lay two performance reports Ann’s and Leah’s.

Ann’s report read: Disciplined. Commanding. Excellent execution.

Leah’s read: Exceptional instincts. Poor discipline.

He stared at the paper for a long time, then picked up his pen. After a moment, he crossed out poor and replaced it with emotional.

You’re reckless,” he murmured, half to himself. “But damn it, you care too much.”

He leaned back in his chair, eyes flicking toward the small window where the moonlight streamed in pale and cold.

He’d told himself she was just another recruit another soldier under his command. But lately, he’d found himself noticing too much: the way she smiled when encouraging others, the way her eyes softened even when she was exhausted, the quiet resilience she carried.

And that was dangerous.

Because no matter how hard he tried to deny it, Leah wasn’t just testing his authority anymore she was testing his control.