General and I

THE TRAINING FIELD

Sleep refused to come that night.

Damien Cole sat at the edge of his bed, the soft hum of the city echoing through the walls of his private quarters inside the military compound. The moonlight streamed through the half-open blinds, painting silver streaks across the floor, and for the first time in years, the General felt… restless.

He couldn’t stop thinking about her.

The girl with the tear-stained face, the one who seemed to break a silence he had built around himself for years.

He leaned back, running a hand through his dark hair. Why is it always when she’s hurting that I see her? he thought. Why does fate insist on showing me her pain?

He remembered the way she had looked up at him fragile but brave, her voice trembling as she tried to compose herself. The image wouldn’t leave his mind.

Damien exhaled heavily and stood. “Pull yourself together, Cole,” he muttered. “You’ve seen hundreds of recruits.”

But he knew it wasn’t true. None had ever lingered in his mind like this. None had stirred that strange ache of protectiveness he didn’t want to acknowledge.

To distract himself, he reached for the folder on his desk company documents from Cole Industries. Normally, he kept military matters and corporate affairs strictly separate, but tonight, he needed something anything to occupy his thoughts.

Still, even as he tried to focus on a financial report, Leah’s face flashed before him. The quiet tremor of her lips, the way her shoulders shook when she tried to hide her tears.

“Damn it,” he muttered under his breath.

He shut the folder, leaned back, and stared at the ceiling. The clock struck two, and the base outside was silent. But inside, the General’s heart was loud filled with questions he didn’t dare to answer.

Meanwhile, across the camp, Leah walked back toward her barracks under the dim yellow glow of the night lamps. The gravel crunched beneath her boots, and the wind carried the faint scent of pine and rain.

Her heart was still racing from the unexpected encounter. The General’s sudden appearance had left her shaken. His presence was commanding, almost overwhelming like a storm that made everything around it fade.

She replayed the moment over and over again: his steady gaze, the concern in his voice, and that faint frown that deepened when he’d seen her crying.

The aura that came from his body was insane, he’s extremely tall and made her look extremely short,his broad shoulders and her black hair,”who could he be ?”he asked herself

But why does he look at her like that when he saw that she was crying?, but his voice sounded familiar not sure have seen such stoic face before ,she kept on thinking

. Crying women are not allowed, she remembered hearing one of the officers say during orientation. Her stomach twisted at the thought.

“What if he reports me?” she murmured to herself. “What if they send me home?”

The idea terrified her. She couldn’t go back not when Maya’s life depended on this chance.

When she reached her room, she stopped short. Water pooled across the floor, and her thin blanket was drenched, dripping slowly onto the mattress.

Leah blinked, her mind taking a moment to register the cruelty before realization dawned.

“Ann…” she whispered.

Ann Parker sat on the next bunk, pretending to polish her nails. Her two followers Celia and Grace snickered quietly.

Leah didn’t say a word. She knew better than to accuse without proof; Ann was too clever, and Leah couldn’t risk a confrontation that might cost her position.

She simply sighed, staring at the soaked bedding. “So this is how it’s going to be,” she said softly.

A voice came from behind. “You can share mine.”

Leah turned. Natasha stood there, already in her sleepwear, holding out an extra blanket. Her expression was calm but sympathetic.

“Are you sure?” Leah asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Natasha nodded. “You need rest. It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Leah hesitated, then smiled weakly. “Thank you.”

That night, she lay on the narrow bed beside Natasha, staring at the ceiling. She could hear Ann tossing and turning on the upper bunk, deliberately slamming her heel against the metal frame every few minutes just enough to keep Leah awake.

Leah closed her eyes and whispered a silent prayer for patience.

When she finally drifted off, it was to the faint echo of her sister’s laugh in her dreams a memory of home that felt both distant and precious.

The morning came too soon.

A shrill whistle pierced the air, followed by the harsh bark of a drill instructor. “Up, recruits! Move it!”

Leah jerked awake, disoriented. Her body ached from lack of sleep, her eyes heavy and burning. Natasha groaned beside her.

“Morning already?”

Leah nodded, dragging herself up. “Barely slept.”

“Neither did I,” Natasha muttered. “That Ann girl snores like a truck.”

Leah stifled a small laugh despite herself.

Outside, the air was crisp and biting. The recruits lined up, some still yawning. The instructor, a tall, broad-shouldered woman with a voice that could command a battlefield, blew the whistle again.

“Ten laps around the field! Go!”

Groans echoed across the line.

Leah’s stomach dropped. She hadn’t eaten, hadn’t rested but she tightened her grip on her water bottle and started running. The gravel bit into her boots, her legs screaming in protest after the first few laps.

Beside her, Ann was already falling behind, her breath coming in short gasps.

“This… is ridiculous…” Ann wheezed. “I didn’t come here to… to run marathons!”

Celia and Grace exchanged helpless looks.

Leah pushed on, steady and determined. Every step felt like fire in her lungs, but she refused to stop. She thought of Maya’s face the soft smile, the way her little sister said, “You’re my hero, Leah.”

Heroes didn’t quit.

By the time the whistle blew again, Leah was drenched in sweat but standing tall. Ann, on the other hand, collapsed onto the grass, glaring up at the sky.

“This place is insane,” she muttered. “Mother’s going to hear about this.”

The instructor walked past her, unimpressed. “Then tell your mother we don’t raise soldiers with complaints.”

A few recruits chuckled under their breath. Ann’s cheeks flamed with humiliation. Her eyes flicked to Leah, who was standing quietly, catching her breath.

That calm, composed expression it infuriated her.

After a brief water break, the instructor clapped her hands. “We’re moving to field exercises. You’ll be split into teams. Each team will complete a set of obstacles climbing walls, target practice, and coordination drills. The team with the lowest score…”

She smiled thinly. “…will clean the entire compound by sundown.”

Groans filled the air again.

Leah found herself placed in a group with Natasha, two other girls named Claire and Riley both quiet but capable and a short recruit who looked terrified just to be there.

Ann, predictably, was placed on the opposite team.

“Let’s make this interesting,” Ann whispered to Celia. “No matter what, Leah’s team doesn’t win.”

Celia smirked. “You mean sabotage?”

Ann shrugged. “Call it balance.”

The first obstacle was a rope climb. Leah stepped forward, wiped her palms, and looked up at the towering wall.

“You’ve got this,” Natasha said beside her.

Leah nodded. “Let’s go.”

Her hands gripped the rope tight, her muscles burning as she pulled herself up inch by inch. Around her, other recruits struggled or slipped. The rough fibers bit into her palms, but she didn’t stop.

At the top, she glanced down ,Natasha was right behind her, grinning. Together, they swung over and landed.

“Nice work,” Natasha said, panting.

Leah smiled faintly. “We make a good team.”

But not everyone shared their enthusiasm. On the next obstacle, Ann’s team had to pass a baton to Leah’s across the field. Ann deliberately threw it short, letting it fall into the mud.

“Oops,” she said sweetly. “My hand slipped.”

Leah said nothing. She just picked it up, wiped the dirt away, and continued.

Every time Leah’s team gained ground, Ann found a new way to slow them down bumping into her during sprints, “accidentally” spilling water on the targets, shouting distractions.

By the end of the drill, Leah’s arms felt like lead. When the results were announced, her team came in second-to-last.

“Team Beta,” the instructor barked. “You know the rule. The field is yours to clean.”

Ann smiled triumphantly. Leah just nodded, quiet and resigned.

Natasha frowned. “They cheated. You know that, right?”

Leah shrugged. “Maybe. But it doesn’t matter. We’ll clean, and tomorrow we’ll do better.”

Her voice wasn’t bitter it was calm, almost serene. And that calmness, that refusal to be dragged into the mud, was what made her stronger than Ann could ever understand.

As the sun set, Leah stood by the training field with a broom in her hand, the sky glowing orange and gold. Natasha hummed beside her, trying to lighten the mood.

“This isn’t so bad,” she said. “Good workout, right?”

Leah laughed softly. “You’re impossible.”

From a distance, someone was watching.

Damien stood by the glass window of his office overlooking the field. His uniform jacket hung loosely over his shoulders, his expression unreadable. But his eyes they lingered on Leah.

He’d seen the entire exercise, watched how she endured humiliation without a word, how she helped the weaker recruits, how she kept going even when she should have collapsed.

And he felt that same pull again that strange, powerful tug in his chest.

Why her? he thought. Why now?

He didn’t have the answer. But as Leah looked up toward the horizon, brushing a strand of hair from her face, the sunlight catching in her eyes he knew one thing for certain.

He would see her again.

And next time, he wouldn’t let her walk away.