---
"It's an eagle's duty to rise and challenge the sky. Its wings open to chase the rainbow," Andre said with a quiet smile, standing beside Ekaterina in the hospital office. "My leg's healed. I'm ready to be discharged."
Across the desk, Ekaterina—masked and composed—didn't respond at first. She calmly signed her name onto the discharge form, her handwriting steady and efficient.
"Comrade Captain," she said, sliding the paper across the desk, "your leg has healed well. But you also suffered a head injury. If you experience any dizziness, nausea, or blurred vision, you must return immediately. Understood?"
Her voice was professional, but there was a softness beneath the words.
Andre accepted the form but didn't move.
Sensing his hesitation, Ekaterina looked up. "Is there something else? You'll need to take that form to the dean's office to receive your final stamp."
"There is one more thing," Andre said, his voice lower now. "It's personal."
He paused, then met her eyes.
"During my stay here, I've been looked after with great care—by a particular member of the medical staff. Thanks to her, my recovery was swift. Not only that… I got to eat real food. Not hospital rations. Homemade. Every day."
Ekaterina said nothing.
"I want to thank her," he continued, "by inviting her to dinner. Just once, before I return to base. Could you tell me what time she gets off work?"
For a moment, she said nothing. Then came the quiet, composed reply:
"It's a doctor's duty to care for the wounded. You don't need to thank me, Captain. And as for dinner… let's not."
Andre smiled faintly. "When I return to the regiment, I don't know when—or if—I'll be back in Vladivostok. Some things… can't be left unsaid."
He waited.
Before Ekaterina could answer, the office door suddenly burst open. A small blur of energy darted inside.
"Mom! You're still working? Your shift ended already!"
A little boy, no more than three years old, tumbled into the room. He wore a miniature October Revolution military cap, suspenders, and a wrinkled t-shirt. His hair—blonde, just like Ekaterina's—bounced as he ran toward her, arms outstretched.
Andre froze.
"Mom?"
"Ivan!" Ekaterina gasped, bending down. "Why did you run off again?"
"I'm hungry!" he declared, rubbing his belly. "I want food!"
Andre's chest tightened. She's a mother?
He had known she was young—nineteen, an intern—but married with a child? That didn't fit anything he had heard. Nurses had told him she was unmarried. Had they lied? Was she widowed? Divorced? Had she raised a child alone?
Or had she simply chosen not to tell anyone?
He was still trying to sort through his thoughts when Ekaterina looked up, amused at the stunned expression on his face.
"Captain Andre," she said with a subtle smirk, "this little soldier says he's hungry. You just mentioned dinner. Should we accept your invitation?"
Andre blinked. "You… you still want to come?"
"Of course," she replied lightly. "But you'll have to let Ivan come too. That's non-negotiable."
Andre scratched the back of his neck, laughing nervously. "Right. Of course."
"So then, where are we eating?" she asked.
"You pick."
She smiled through her mask. "Let's go to the cafeteria at the Pacific University of Economics. It's close, the food is decent, and it won't bankrupt you. The meatloaf and kimchi soup are especially good."
Soviet university cafeterias were open to the public and heavily subsidized. Medical staff from nearby hospitals often ate there for cheap and convenient meals. Andre nodded.
Before he could answer, Ivan tugged on his mother's coat.
"No! I want Japanese food! The new place on Svetlana Street—I saw the sign!"
Ekaterina gave her son a look. "Ivan, that place is expensive. And this nice pilot just got out of the hospital."
Andre leaned down to the boy's level.
"Well, Ivan, maybe we can strike a deal. If you're on your best behavior and eat all your dinner—all of it—we might be able to swing some dessert too. How about that?"
Ivan considered. "Cake?"
Andre held out a hand. "Deal."
The boy slapped his palm against Andre's. "Deal!"
Ekaterina shook her head, clearly amused. "You're good with children."
"I wasn't expecting to be tested this quickly," Andre muttered.
As they left the office together, the little boy skipping ahead, Andre felt something unexpected stir in his chest.
He'd come here with a discharge form and a thank-you.
But maybe—just maybe—he was leaving with something more.
---