Aaron

Three years in a concrete vault had turned time into a viscous gray dust. You hugged Alina, whose ragged breathing was the only sound in the stifling silence of the basement.

"Eat, little one. This... this is from the cook, they gave you some extra," you lied, handing her your ration of stale bread. Your skin-covered fingers trembled.

"Sister, you've become transparent yourself," Alina burst into silent sobs, burying her face in your shoulder. "Why are you doing this? You still have to give birth... at home... with your husband."

"I'm strong, Alya. And you're nineteen. You need to get back to your mother in one piece."

You closed your eyes, remembering those five years of happiness that the war had cut in half. You remembered the draft notices that landed on the kitchen table next to the pregnancy test you never got around to taking.

Suddenly, a roar shattered the silence. The door, smashed open, let in a blinding, furious light.

"Ours! Alive?!" shouted voices smelling of gunpowder.

Alina, seeing her Denis in the doorway, screamed as if all the pent-up pain had burst out of her. She lunged forward, flew into his arms, sobbing uncontrollably. You tried to stand, but your knee, shattered by torture, buckled. Pain shot through your spine, throwing you back into the cold mud.

"Commander, there's another one! It's heavy!" the soldier shouted. A tall silhouette stood frozen in the doorway. Broad shoulders, a painfully familiar turn of the head. Aaron. He froze, not recognizing his wife in the emaciated, broken creature against the wall.

“Darling?” His voice cracked like ice underfoot.

You clutched the wall, your nails scraping blood, and forced yourself to stand. Every centimeter of your way to him cost you your life.

“You... you promised that we would build a nursery,” you croaked, choking on tears.

He leaped up, keeping you from falling. His hands, rough from the weapon, caught your weightless body, pressing it against his body armor.

— Quiet, darling. Breathe. I will burn this world to the ground, but no one will touch you again. We are going home. Do you hear me? Home.