The Great War

He swallowed hard, his hand coming up to cup her face, his thumb brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down her cheek. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, hoarse with guilt. “For everything. For—”

She shook her head, silencing him. “Don’t,” she whispered. “Not now. Not today.”

There would be time for apologies, for explanations, for understanding what had brought them to this moment. But not now. Not today.

Today, they had survived.

Her hand slipped down to his, their fingers entwining, and they both stood there, battered but alive, bruised but together.



[Based on The Great War by Taylor Swift.]