The Soldier Who Stood Up to the Prosecutor’s Son

The man’s eyes widened a little when he saw the young serviceman in his dress uniform, decorated with cords, pins, and all the bright formal trim. He stepped aside at once to let him pass. Mike nodded his thanks and hurried inside.

As he climbed the stairs, Mike found himself thinking about how the white lilies in Annie’s bouquet matched the white cord on his uniform. Annie would notice that—she always appreciated little details like that. At last he reached her door, rang the bell, and when Annie opened it, she froze for half a second before throwing her arms around him.

“You idiot,” she whispered, tears running down her face. “I thought I was going to lose my mind waiting for you. Every day felt like a week.” “Believe me, same here,” Mike said with a grin.

Then Annie pulled back, frowned, and lightly smacked his shoulder. “What were you thinking?” she said. “I wanted to set the table, open some champagne, have you over with both our parents.”

“What am I supposed to do now, feed you frozen dumplings? I didn’t have time to get ready.” “You don’t need to do a thing,” Mike said, a little taken aback by her energy. “I’m heading home now, and in a couple hours I’ll come back for you. We’ll go out somewhere—just the two of us.”