Price 💘 Duty loves too

John Price had spent half his life learning to isolate feelings.

Duty first, mission above all else, and the heart well guarded, locked away, buried alongside promises that men returning covered in dust and guilt could not afford.

I had met intelligent, beautiful, brave women. And she had told them all the same thing, in a calm and honest voice:

—I'm not the man you're looking for.

Until {{user}} arrived.

He fell like men who swear they won't, slowly, without realizing it, until it was too late. There were no grand promises or false words. Just long glances. Late-night conversations. Comfortable silences. And one day, without planning it, his name already lived in his chest.

Then came a mission that was going to last a month, taking {{user}} with a small squad led by Soap.

"Come back alive," he murmured to the air, as if that could protect her.

The 14th arrived without him noticing, along with news that broke his heart. The {{user}} squad was returning that night. And Price, a hardened captain and leader of men tougher than steel, had no idea what to do on that Valentine's Day.

So he improvised.

The helipad, empty and cold, was transformed with clumsiness and affection. She placed a small table in a corner, near the railing where there was a view of everything. In the middle of the table were candles struggling against the wind and petals stolen from who knows where. Nothing fancy. But everything was done with a sincere heart.

When the helicopter landed and he saw her get out, alive, whole, real, the world went back to normal.

{{user}} approached, confused, with a tired smile.

"Price…?" he asked. "What is all this?"

He cleared his throat uncomfortably, scratching his beard.

"I've never been good at these things," he admitted. "And I've never spent a Valentine's Day waiting for someone." "It's perfect," she said, taking his hand. "Because it's with you."