In the ashes of a modern war, where steel outlasts skin and most men forget how to feel, Faith, a tender but resilient Branvecht nurse, refuses to go numb. She grieves every life, holds every hand, and insists on preserving the heart of humanity-no matter how much blood stains her apron. Her fight isn't on the frontlines, but in the quiet defiance of feeling, softness, and hope.
When Eden Lorenz, a captured Drezden soldier, is brought into her infirmary, Faith is told not to trust him. But Eden-flirtatious, worn down, and disillusioned by the nation that raised him to kill-isn't trying to win the war anymore. He's just trying to survive it. Eden begins feeding intel to the Branvecht side in secret, not out of loyalty, but for a chance at something he doesn't think he deserves yet: love, peace, and Faith's belief in him.
She was left at the altar.
He stopped believing in love the day the war left its mark on his face.
Ada never asked for a fairytale. She just wanted respect. But after being humiliated on her wedding day in front of the entire town, even that felt like too much to hope for.
Duke Albert never cared for high society, and society never cared for him especially after the war turned him from a decorated soldier into a scarred recluse. With no interest in love, and even less in being paraded like a noble prize, he prefers a life of silence, structure, and solitude.
But fate doesn't always ask.
When Albert's grandmother arranges a marriage between him and the woman no one else dared to claim, neither expects anything more than polite tolerance. Yet as quiet understanding grows between them, so does something neither of them believe in anymore*hope.*
A slow-burn historical romance about second chances, quiet strength, and love that blooms not from perfection, but from shared scars