Eric was the name of Anita's husband.
He had been missing for months—captured during a mission that had gone terribly wrong.
When the rescue team finally brought him back to the base, bruised but alive, everyone called it a miracle.
Everyone except him.
Because the moment he stepped through the door of their quarters and saw Anita standing there, something felt… off.
She smiled. She hugged him. She even cried.
But it felt rehearsed. Measured.
As if she were performing the role of a relieved wife instead of being one.
A week had already passed since his return, yet the warmth he had clung to during his darkest hours in captivity never truly came back to him.
The base felt colder. Their room felt unfamiliar. And Anita—his Anita—felt like an alien wearing her face.
She avoided his gaze more often than not. Conversations died quickly.
When he tried to reminisce about old memories, she would nod politely, but her eyes seemed distant, distracted.
