𝟏𝟗𝟒𝟔 ：𝑬𝒌 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒎 𝒌𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂 ✓

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘟𝘟𝘝. 𝘋𝘢𝘥𝘥𝘺 𝘐𝘴𝘴𝘶𝘦𝘴

Edward's POV;

I stir in bed as the first rays of sunlight filter through the curtains. Blinking away sleep, I glance at the clock-6:00 AM.

Realizing how late it is, I quickly push myself out of bed and head for the shower. The warm water washes over me, but it does little to ease the weight pressing on my chest. Today is going to be a long day-I can already feel it.

Dressed and ready, I stand before the mirror, inhaling deeply. "You can do this," I tell myself before stepping out of my room in a hurry.

As I enter the hallway, I come to an abrupt stop. Mom and Manjari.

My gaze locks onto her. Manjari. She's serving my mother, her delicate hands moving with care, her face calm-too calm. But I see it. The pain she's hiding, the silent turmoil beneath the surface. She's hurting.

She lifts her eyes, meeting mine for just a second, before looking away. She doesn't say anything. But she doesn't have to. I know. I know she wants to speak, I know she's struggling, I know she needs me.

Yet, despite everything she's feeling, despite the unbearable grief pressing down on her, she's here-taking care of my mother.

A sharp pang of guilt twists in my chest. I couldn't save Stefan. And because of that, she's in pain.

I force a small smile her way, but it feels hollow. Then, I glance at my mother. She smiles softly at me and nods her head.

Without another word, I turn and leave the house, making my way to the car. Sliding into the driver's seat, I grip the steering wheel tightly before inserting the keys and pulling out of the driveway.

The drive feels shorter than usual, my mind clouded with thoughts. When I arrive at my father's house, I immediately notice a group of soldiers gathered on the porch. They stand in formation, their presence commanding and disciplined.

And then, my father steps out.

"Is everything ready?" he asks one of the officers, his voice sharp and authoritative.

"Yes, sire!" the soldier replies, standing at attention.

My father surveys the men before addressing them again. "We must be prepared. You all know what to do!"

"Yes, sire!" they respond in unison.

I take a cautious step forward, my eyes scanning the assembled troops. Before I can fully take in the scene, my father's voice cuts through the air.

"Edward!" His tone is firm, expectant. "Come on, we've all been waiting for you."

At his words, every soldier in the group turns to look at me.

A wave of self-consciousness crashes over me as I suddenly become the center of attention. My fingers instinctively rub against my pants, a nervous habit I can't shake.

I hesitantly walk forward, my footsteps feeling heavier than usual. When I reach my father's side, he grips my shoulders firmly and turns me to face the soldiers.

A broad smile spreads across his face, the kind of smile that signals victory, triumph-as if he has just won a prize.

Then, he speaks.

"So, my dear officers, let me introduce you to my son-Mr. Edward Fletcher Thomas." His voice is filled with pride, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction.

"He will be the head of our team."

I snap my head toward my father, eyes wide with disbelief. What!? What is happening?!