To the reader: This here is the first and the last chapter of this short story. Hope you read it and like it.
He had always been against marriage.
Not because he didn't believe in love. But because the world he belonged to — the battlefield — didn't give space for it. Not for a man like him. A man who had nothing to offer but blood and scars and peace to the people that he protected.
A man of promises, of discipline. Filled with the pain, sorrow and hurts that even time could not heal.
Yet, Anna loved him anyway. Loved him with all her life. Went against parents just to be with him. She knew, that he was her man. Her only man.
Two years after he left for war, he came back. Not as the man she married but as a statue.
He was wheeled out of the ambulance like a ghost. Silent. Paralyzed. A breathing statue of a once-fearless and a brave soldier.
Anna stood at the porch, soaked in sunlight and stillness. She didn't cry when she saw him.
She smiled — a forced, fragile smile.
He blinked.
War had taken everything from him. But not her. Notlove.
He was an orphan, raised in barracks more than bedrooms. Disciplined to the bone. Brave to a fault.
And it was that bravery that cost him his voice, his legs, and nearly his life.
He had defied a direct order to save a young recruit pinned down by enemy fire. A landmine hidden beneath rubble did the rest. When the medics found him, his body was bloodied and broken. But the recruit lived. In his lifeless hands, he held the boy's dog tag.
Now, back home, days passed in silence.
Anna became his world — his caretaker, his strength.
She bathed him gently. Fed him with care. She'd talk about songs, about books, about the neighbor's cat that kept sneaking into their yard. And though she'd never played piano before, she taught herself — just to play his favorite tune. Her fingers trembled on the keys, but she never stopped.
Friends told her, "You're still young. You deserve more. Move on."
But Anna would only smile and say,"He's still him. That's all I ever loved."
One stormy night, thunder rolled across the sky. Anna sat in the other room, quietly crying — guilt, exhaustion, pain... all crashing down.
And then — thud.
Something had fallen.
She rushed into his room. He was on the floor, collapsed near the bed.
She knelt down beside him, eyes wide in horror.
His face was wet with tears. His hands, weak and trembling, had scraped across the wooden floor. Scribbled in crooked letters, drawn with the strength of a soul breaking open:
"Am I not a burden to you??I'm sorry Anna."
She shattered.
Tears flooded her cheeks as she held him close. Her voice cracked, but her heart did not.
She cupped his face, whispered through sobs:"Burden? No, never.Hey buddy... you're the reason this face still smiles."
From that night on, she taught him a language of blinks and fingers.A blink for "yes."Two for "no."A twitch for "I love you."
And he learned.
Every moment of love, every wordless embrace, became louder than any poem.
On their anniversary, she dressed him in his old suit. Lit candles around the dining table. Cooked his favorite meal — even though he couldn't eat the same way anymore.
She sat across from him, held his hand, and whispered:
"This is still us. And always will be."
He blinked once. Slowly.His smile—just the twitch of a lip—was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
And then came the morning.
The air was still. The sun peeked through the curtains, brushing golden light on his pale face.
Anna walked in with a blanket in hand… and stopped.
His eyes were open.Tears rolled down his cheeks.But his chest did not rise.
He was gone.
In his hand, clenched tightly, was a piece of paper. Shaky, broken handwriting, the kind no one had taught him to do. Just like that night on the floor — he had written this with a finger full of pain… and love.
"The reason I smiled… is you.The reason I came this far… is you.Don't stop living."
Years passed.
In a quiet room, with soft light and silence in the air, Anna sat with young war widows. Some cried. Some stared blankly at walls. All were lost.
She stood before them, calm, strong, wearing a necklace with his dog tag — the only thing he brought back from war.
She said softly,"I was married to a man who couldn't move… couldn't speak.But he said more to me with a blink…than most say in a lifetime.
He's gone now.But I still hear him. In the silence.And I know he's here…Forever and always."
The world is filled with pain, sorrow, anger, frustration, and above all, love and happiness. Love is not just words; it's an emotion, a force in the world worth fighting for with all your strength.