General and I

THE SPACE BETWEEN WORDS

Morning broke slowly over Camp Valour, the kind of quiet dawn that felt suspended between night and day. The first rays of sunlight glimmered faintly over the training field, still coated in dew.

The sound of the morning bugle echoed across the grounds, signaling another day of relentless drills and schedules. Recruits shuffled out of their quarters, yawning and stretching, pulling on their jackets with half-open eyes.

Leah stood by her bed, already dressed, her hair tied neatly into a ponytail. She’d been awake long before the bugle sounded. Sleep hadn’t come easily not after last night.

Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Damien’s face beneath the moonlight. The quiet intensity of his gaze. The warmth in his voice when he’d said her name.

She exhaled softly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Get it together, Leah,” she murmured under her breath.

Natasha was still half-asleep, brushing her teeth lazily by the mirror. “You’re up early,” she mumbled.

Leah shrugged, pretending to adjust her uniform. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Still thinking about the payment thing?”

Leah hesitated. “Yeah… something like that.”

Natasha grinned knowingly. “Or maybe someone.”

Leah shot her a warning look. “Don’t start.”

But Natasha only laughed, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, I didn’t say anything. But the way you’re blushing says enough.”

“I’m not blushing.”

“You totally are.”

Leah sighed, grabbing her cap from the nightstand. “Let’s go before I throw your toothbrush out the window.”

The soldiers assembled at the field as the morning sun rose higher, burning the dew into mist. Sergeant Kale’s voice cut through the air like a whip.

“Fall in, soldiers!”

A chorus of “Yes, sir!” echoed back.

The field smelled faintly of wet grass and sweat. Leah stood in line, her posture straight but her heartbeat a little off rhythm.

Damien was there.

He stood at the far end of the field, dressed in his dark uniform, gloves on, hands behind his back. He was talking to one of the assistant trainers, his expression calm but unreadable.

The moment Leah’s eyes found him, she immediately looked away but not before catching that fleeting second where he looked at her, too. Just a glance. Barely a heartbeat. But enough to make her chest tighten.

He didn’t move, didn’t speak to her but his presence felt heavier today. As if every breath of air between them carried last night’s silence.

“Today’s endurance run will be in pairs!” Sergeant Kale announced, his voice booming across the field. “If your partner falls, you fall with them. No excuses!”

The recruits groaned.

Natasha whispered, “Please not Ann, please not Ann,” under her breath.

Leah stifled a small laugh.

But fate had other plans.

“Pair A Natasha and Leah. Pair B Ann and Celia.”

Ann, standing across the field with her perfectly polished boots and smug expression, looked pleased with herself. Celia on the other hand, looked like she wanted to disappear.

Damien stepped forward slightly, scanning the group with quiet authority. “You all have fifteen minutes to complete four laps around the perimeter. Start now.”

The whistle blew.

Leah and Natasha took off running, the rhythm of their boots hitting the gravel echoing through the field.

Leah focused on her breathing, trying to drown out the distraction in her chest. But every time Damien’s voice rang out steady, commanding she felt it tug at something inside her.

“Straighten your posture, Harper,” he said sharply at one point, his tone clipped.

“Yes, sir!” she replied automatically.

But even from a distance, Natasha saw the faint tension in both their faces.

“You two are weird,” she muttered between breaths.

Leah blinked, feigning ignorance. “What?”

“The way he talks to you,” Natasha said. “It’s not like how he talks to the rest of us. It’s like… I don’t know, he’s trying not to sound soft.”

Leah frowned. “He’s just my superior.”

“Sure.” Natasha smirked. “And I’m the Queen of England.”

Leah groaned. “Can we just focus on running before I leave you behind?”

Natasha laughed breathlessly. “Fine, fine!”

After training, the recruits gathered for breakfast in the mess hall. The aroma of eggs, toast, and black coffee filled the air. Conversations buzzed at every table, laughter mixing with exhaustion.

Leah and Natasha sat together, still sweating, gulping down water like they’d just run a marathon which, technically, they had.

Across the room, Ann and Celia sat with Zach, who’d joined the morning supervision team that day. Ann was talking animatedly, laughing a little too loud, trying to draw attention.

Zach, however, wasn’t paying her much mind. His eyes drifted once or twice toward Leah’s table.

Damien entered the hall a few minutes later, his presence commanding quiet without him saying a word. He spoke briefly to the sergeant, then walked toward the back section reserved for officers.

Leah tried not to look, but curiosity betrayed her.

He was so effortlessly composed his movements precise, his uniform immaculate. But there was something different about him today a faint heaviness in the way he carried himself.

And when he passed by her table, Leah swore his hand brushed against the edge of her chair barely a touch, maybe even accidental but her pulse leapt like a startled bird.

He didn’t glance her way. Didn’t speak. But his silence felt louder than words.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of drills, classroom lessons, and tactical briefings. By evening, the sun dipped low, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson.

Leah stood by the water tank area, filling her canteen. The other recruits had already gone to shower.

She was lost in thought when she heard footsteps behind her.

She didn’t need to turn to know who it was.

“Still awake, Cadet?” His voice was low, calmfamiliar.

Leah froze for a second before straightening. “Yes, sir. I was just—”

“Filling your canteen,” he finished, stepping closer.

There was a pause heavy, awkward, yet charged with something she couldn’t name.

“I noticed you were… distracted today,” he said after a moment. “Anything I should know about?”

Leah shook her head quickly. “No, sir. I’m fine.”

His gaze lingered on her face, searching. “You don’t look fine.”

I just didn’t sleep well,” she admitted softly.

He nodded once. “You need to take care of yourself. You won’t do your sister any good if you collapse.”

Her eyes flicked up to his. “How do you always know what to say?”

Damien gave a small smile the kind that almost wasn’t one. “It’s easier when you care.”

The words hung in the air between them.

Leah’s breath hitched slightly, and she quickly looked away. “Sir, people will—”

“Let them think what they want,” he said quietly, stepping back. “We both know the truth.”

Her heart thudded in her chest. “And what’s that?”

He paused. “That I see potential in you. And I intend to make sure you don’t waste it.”

Leah swallowed hard, unsure whether to feel disappointed or relieved by the answer.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered.

He studied her for another second before nodding, then turned to leave.

But before he did, he said over his shoulder, “And, Leah… congratulations again. On your sister’s surgery.”

When he was gone, Leah finally exhaled. Her hand was trembling slightly as she lifted her canteen.

She didn’t know what this was between them respect, admiration, or something more dangerous but she knew it was growing harder to ignore.

That night, as the lights went out across the camp and silence settled once again, Leah lay awake staring at the ceiling.

She thought about his words, his eyes, his voice and the unspoken things that hung between them.

Something was shifting. Slowly, quietly.

And she wasn’t sure if she should stop it… or let it consume her.