“It hurts…” murmured Lily, her cracked lips barely moving.
She tried to roll over, but her body refused—every muscle ached like it had been run over by a bulldozer, again and again. Her left arm hung lifeless, a dead weight, screaming with a pain so sharp it stole her breath. Her mind, fogged with terror and smoke, couldn’t piece together what had happened—only flashes remained. Fire, impact, a sky black as midnight… and his voice. Where was he? Where was James?
A scream lodged in her throat. Her body trembled, every cell flaring in agony. Then, through the haze, the stench of smoke hit her—acrid, burning, suffocating. Lily dragged herself away from the heat, from the flames licking at her legs. This wasn’t real. This was hell—the one from her worst nightmares.
She blacked out.
In the dream, she was back where she’d thought she’d lost forever. They sat at the table—crystal glasses, bubbling champagne, James grinning as he popped the cork.
“Well, Lil, you’ve officially lost it,” he laughed. “The only girl crazy enough to go for the flight academy! How’d you even pass the medical?”
“Turns out I’m more than just a pretty face,” she winked.
“You’re a menace, not a pilot,” James shook his head. “But you love the sky. Same as me. Navigation isn’t child’s play—it’s serious. Glad I put you through those simulators. You aced it.”
“Relax, Captain. Drink up before the bubbles die,” she teased, sipping her wine.
James started talking about the sky—how, as a kid, he’d climbed into a helicopter for the first time, how he’d dreamed, how he’d imagined clouds as cotton candy beasts. Lily had thought, *What a dreamer…*
But she’d dreamed too. With him. They’d trained together, flown together, fought together. And now—here. War had taken everything.
When she woke, something crunched beneath her. The wreckage of their Lynx—charred, twisted metal. Their chopper, just scraps now. And there, amid the debris—James. Hands still gripping the controls, as if even death couldn’t pry him from the cockpit. He’d fought to the end.
Lily swayed, her pulse pounding in her temples. She couldn’t bring herself to step closer. Not when ants crawled over him, when flies swarmed the blood on his uniform.
To move forward was to accept it. To admit he was gone. But how? His voice still echoed in her head. His last kiss still burned on her lips—just before takeoff.
War had crashed into their lives without warning. They’d been prepping for another training run back at base. The nickname “Siamese Twins” had stuck—five years, one crew, one rhythm, one path.
“Ready, copilot?” James had grinned, zipping his jacket. “Got your nappies packed?”
“Only needed them for your sorry arse,” she’d shot back.
“Remember how this started? You, those apples, pigtails… stealing from old man Harris’s orchard.”
“And you were the prat who boosted me over the fence,” she’d laughed.
That was their last conversation.
Now—silence. Lily tightened a belt around her arm, pain jolting through her. She took what she could, slipping James’s dog tag from his neck. He was gone. But she was alive. She had to keep moving. For him. For their memory. For the new life growing inside her—something she’d only just begun to realize.
A rustle. Voices.
They were coming.
Lily froze in the tall grass. Pain meant nothing now. Just—don’t breathe. Don’t move. If they found her, it’d be over. She crawled, slow, stomach scraping the dirt, teeth gritted so hard they creaked. Crawled until darkness swallowed her.
She woke under a sky full of stars. Alone.
Morning. A poppy field. Thirst clawed at her. Her canteen was empty, her arm broken. But her heart still beat.
“God, if you’re listening…” she whispered, “don’t let me die. For him. For us.”
The next time she woke, it was to a hospital ceiling. IV in her arm. James’s tag clutched in her palm.
“My son will love the sky,” she murmured, resting a hand on her stomach.
“What makes you so sure it’s a boy?” her mum asked.
“I just know. Back there, in the fire and smoke, I begged God to let me live. For me. For him. He listened. This is my second chance. For James.”
War had taken everything. But it hadn’t broken her. Life went on. And where one dream had died, another began—strong as his hands, clear as his eyes, bright as the sky he’d loved.
