His words echoed inside me, making my breath hitch. Anyone… Was I really anyone to him?
I thought about that until I caught the flicker of understanding in his eyes. "And I don't want you to get hurt," he added quietly.
Finishing the ointment, I pulled back just enough to meet his gaze squarely.
"It's been over a month since I've been here with you all. And I'm so grateful that you let me stay. But watching you go out on missions—sometimes alone, sometimes together—I feel like I'm the only one safe inside. I want to help. I don't want to just hide while you risk everything."
June searched my eyes with a seriousness that made my chest tighten.
Then, after a long pause, he asked, "Do you really want to join the missions? Is that what you want?"
I nodded without hesitation. I felt it deep in my bones. Since they saved me, gave me a second chance at life, I had to do the same for others.
He regarded me quietly, then finally let out a chuckle and nodded.
"How could I say no to that? All right. I'll teach you."
A bright, happy smile blossomed on my face.
From that day, June took it upon himself to train me in the backyard of our building—teaching me how to handle a gun with steady hands and sharp focus.
"Hannah, keep your eye on the target. Focus your aim…" His voice was calm but firm.
One afternoon, June stepped closer, slipping his arm around my back and steadying my aim by holding my wrist.
I stiffened under his touch, every nerve suddenly alive. His hand trembled just slightly, betraying his calm exterior.]
Grace finishes typing, her fingers lingering over the last key as the final sentence appears on the screen. This is the part where her dream ends.
"It was so real… How could the dream feel so real?" she murmurs softly into the quiet room, her voice barely more than a breath.
Even now, lying in her cozy bed, wrapped in soft blankets, she can still feel June's grasp on her arm from behind—the weight, the warmth, the steady hold. It's strange how vivid it all remains, like the past brushing up against the present.
Her eyes fall to the iPhone resting on the bedside table—an unmistakable symbol of her life in the twenty-first century, sleek and modern. And yet, the memory of that other time, of that other place, feels sharper, somehow more immediate.
If she closes her eyes, she feels certain she could slip back there.
But she doesn't want to.
There's something about it all—a quiet sadness hanging beneath the surface—that tugs at her heart.
She reaches up, her fingers resting lightly against her chest.
"Why does it feel like tears could fall at any moment?" she whispers.
The heaviness is unexpected, uninvited. Nothing in the dream was overtly tragic, yet the ache is real.
She decides she needs air—a break from the lingering emotions. Swinging her legs over the bed, she rises and steps outside.
The morning air is crisp and fresh as she strolls through the neighborhood park, the soft crunch of gravel under her shoes the only sound in the stillness. She tilts her head back to gaze at the clear blue sky stretching wide above her.
A smile breaks across her lips—light, genuine.
"Lord," she breathes, eyes closing briefly, "thank You for leading us to go on the…" Her voice falters with excitement, and she laughs softly, the joy bubbling up too strong to contain.
"First date!!!"
Julian pushes his legs harder, each stride steady and strong as he races along the riverbank. His cap shields his damp hair from the morning breeze, while his windbreaker flaps lightly behind him and his shorts brush against his thighs with every step. This morning run, like so many before, is his ritual—an early communion with the world before the day begins.
He slows to a stop, chest heaving, hands on his knees as he tries to steady his breath. His gaze drifts to the river beside him, where the water catches the first golden rays of dawn, shimmering and glistening like a ribbon of light winding through the earth.
The sun is just rising now, painting the sky in soft hues of orange and pink. Julian stands still, captivated by the breathtaking beauty of God's creation unfolding before him.
A quiet awe settles over him as his mind drifts to the day ahead.
Today—the lunch date with Grace.
A grin spreads slowly across his lips.
He knows how much this means to him. For so long, he's never felt this way about anyone—no woman had ever stirred his heart like this since Hannah. For years, he barely allowed himself to imagine liking someone again.
But now he knows.
He knows who she is. This girl he met—it's more than a meeting. It's a reunion of souls, a long journey that has finally brought them back together.
God's love has guided us here, he thinks, eyes fixed on the rising sun, feeling a calm certainty settle in his chest.
"Hey."
The voice is light, playful, and just mischievous enough to catch his attention. Julian turns, and there she is—Grace, standing in the doorway of the theater entrance, her face breaking into a soft smile. The kind of smile that somehow makes everything seem a little brighter.
She's wearing a white t-shirt, simple but with a clean, understated look, and a blue denim jacket that fits her effortlessly. Her black denim skirt sways lightly around her knees, giving her an easy, casual charm.
A warmth settles over him, and despite the crowded space around them, the moment feels quiet, almost like they're the only two people here.
"Were you waiting long?" Her voice drifts over to him, soft but full of that gentle curiosity as she glances around, her eyes scanning the growing crowd of theatergoers.
The pre-show hum is already in full swing, people chatting and laughing as they settle in. The clock ticks closer to showtime.
Julian's smile deepens, his gaze never leaving her.
"No, I just got here," he says smoothly, though the truth is he's been here for almost fifteen minutes.
He'd arrived early, enjoying the solitude before the inevitable rush of people, but he's not about to admit that now.
Grace glances at her phone, then pauses when she sees the time.
"It's exactly 11:30," she says, as though confirming something for herself.
The exact moment they agreed to meet. Her brow furrows slightly as she looks up at him, a quiet challenge in her eyes.
"Well, I guess they're entering now," she says with a little nod toward the ticket counter, where a few latecomers are making their way in.
The ticket taker greets them with a polite smile as they shuffle forward.
Julian follows her gaze, the faintest hint of a grin tugging at his lips.
"Let's go," he suggests with a casual air, stepping forward.
Grace takes the lead, walking with the same easy confidence he's come to admire. She walks a few steps ahead in a rhythmic way.
Julian's eyes follow her as she moves, his smile flashing involuntarily.
She turns back to glance at him, catching him in the act of looking. A small smile plays on her lips.
"Oh, how much is the ticket? I'll send you the money right away," she offers, her tone still light but practical, the kind of person who likes to make sure everything is split just right.
Julian chuckles, shaking his head.
"Nope. It's on me," he says with a touch of amusement.
The words feel natural, though he can't help but feel a little fondness for how stubborn Grace is when it comes to paying for things.
A soft laugh escapes her as she raises an eyebrow, but she doesn't press it further. Instead, her smile widens.
"Then the food's on me," she insists, her voice taking on a playful edge.
Julian pulls his phone from his pocket and shows the mobile tickets to the theater employee at the entrance. The young woman behind the counter scans them with a quick motion, her face lighting up in that polite, practiced smile.
"You're good to go in. Enjoy the show," she says, her voice warm.
"Thank you," both of them reply in unison, stepping into the dimly lit theater, their words carrying in the air for just a moment before the door swings closed behind them.
The space inside is cozy, the ceiling low and intimate. It's not a large theater, more like a small, charming venue that gives off a feeling of closeness. The air smells faintly of old velvet, popcorn, and something a little musky—a familiar scent that brings a sense of nostalgia to Julian. This wasn't the kind of place you came to for the spectacle; it was where you came for the experience.
"Where's the seat?" Grace asks, her voice soft and almost reverent as she glances around at the darkened theater.
The quiet before the storm of lights, action, and the energy of the crowd.
Julian points toward the front, his eyes scanning the rows until he spots the two empty seats in the middle of the first row.
"It's right there," he says, motioning to the center of the front row.
Grace's eyes light up, surprise flickering across her features.
"How'd you know I love the front row for live plays?" she asks, her voice soft but genuine.