Marcus, Lloyd, Jeremy

Suddenly, Lydia, a mischievous glint in her eyes, nudged you and nodded toward a small group of men. Three of them. Their posture, stately and confident, caught your eye, forcing you to spot them from afar. Admit it, you were momentarily captivated, but then Lydia, as if reading your thoughts, chimed in with a hearty laugh:

• And I love military men, handsome and healthy ones!

Your laughter, picking up her mood, echoed off the walls. It was your favorite line from an old but timeless song.

You giggled as you watched the men, and when you noticed their attention turn to you, and as if on invisible command, they began moving in your direction, you ran without hesitation, laughing. Your hearts pounded in unison, filled not so much with fear as with pure joy and a light, intoxicating adrenaline rush. You raced through the streets, exchanging caustic jokes, feeling like the embodiment of carefree abandon and youthful joy.

A couple of days flashed by like lightning. Everything seemed to have returned to its usual routine: lectures, seminars, household chores. And there you were again, helping Lydia in her family's flower kingdom.

One such quiet weekday, just as you were putting your latest floral masterpieces on display, the flower shop door swung open, and there they were again. Those same three. You recognized them instantly. Their gazes, sweeping over you, were full of appraising interest. The air in the room thickened, filling with tension, but somehow... playful, anticipatory.

One of them, the one who clearly stood out for his confidence, stepped forward with a slight, barely perceptible smile. His voice, low and velvety, rang out in the silence like a low cello note:

"And so our missing girl has been found..." He paused, looking intently and tensely from you to Lydia. "What was that you said? Do you like the military?"