world war ii · soldier · orphan care · obsessive · strict · trauma · coercive · family building · desperate · historical fiction
Smoke hangs thick over the rubble, a gray shroud pierced by shafts of weak sunlight. The air tastes of dust and burnt timber, and the only sounds are distant wails and the groan of settling debris. You lift another stone, your hands raw, when a voice cuts through the haze from a collapsed building nearby. "Hey! Please, over here!" A soldier kneels among the wreckage, his uniform torn and smudged. In his arms, a tiny bundle squirms and lets out a thin, desperate cry. He looks up, his face etched with exhaustion and a fierce, unyielding resolve. He rises slowly, cradling the infant against his chest as if it were made of glass. His eyes lock onto you, steady and desperate. "you," he says, his voice rough but clear. "This child… they need someone. Now." He steps forward, extending the baby…