Quicksand of Fate

He couldn't shake the guilt that he was the reason Lorenzo's condition had worsened. It all started with a fleeting promise he had made to ease the boy's discomfort. Due to his commitments, he failed to keep his promise, and when he returned, he found the house in disarray.

"You're right," Sandro sighed as he leaned back in his chair. "I'll go tomorrow, first thing in the morning. I'll take care of it."

Vera, speaking lightly about another matter, called out to him. "That would be good. But Sandro, do you have time for me tomorrow?"

Sandro frowned again. Despite his father's request, he didn't want to say goodbye and worry her. Since the mission was still a secret for about another month, he found himself avoiding her in a way that didn't even make sense to him.

"I'm sorry, Vera. Tomorrow, I'll barely have time to meet you, I need to join the army to leave for the north at eleven in the morning. Is there something urgent? If so, I can ask for permission and join the army late for you."

Vera replied in a calm voice, "I see... no, it's not important. I just wanted to see you before you left. Please don't worry, and take care of yourself."

"You too," Sandro said before ending the call.

He sat in silence for a moment after hanging up. His heart ached at the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to Vera, but it was too late for regrets.

Running his hand through his short grey hair, he found his thoughts drifting away from the northern operation and fixating instead on his fiancée, Vera. It made him hesitate as he looked at the map, specifically the plain surrounded by a snowstorm, which he had insisted be the path of the infiltration squad.

It was all a lie. Everything he had said in the meeting was just flimsy reasoning. Perhaps, if he had discussed it with the officers without ulterior motives, he could have mitigated the dangers of the forest and even found a safer route. But the real reason he had volunteered for this suicide mission in the first place was to reach this specific plain, even if it meant risking his life.

He stood up and put the phone in his pocket. Whether it was his brother, Vera, or even the north and the snowy plain, they would all have to wait.

For now, it was better to get some sleep and rest his mind.

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After a long night, Sandro stood in the dim light of his office while the first rays of dawn filtered through the high windows. Maps, reports, and a half-empty cup of coffee filled his desk.

Although he had slept for a few hours, he had woken up again at three o'clock due to some new developments. He spent the rest of the night awake, so he put his hand over his mouth and yawned. Even for him, not sleeping for three nights would undoubtedly affect his concentration. Well, he could sleep on his way north, so it was important to finish everything in his hands, both professional and personal, in the short time remaining.

As an apology to his fiancée, he bought her a unique bracelet online and arranged for it to be delivered to her house. Then he sat down, rubbed the back of his neck, and studied some files and documents. He also made the final reviews for the infiltration squad before disseminating the plan to the relevant parties, from the high command to the generals, commanders, and trusted officers involved in the initial mission.

Given the mission's importance, even a tiny mistake could not be tolerated. This battle had been prepared for ten years, and Sandro himself had been involved for a month, which was why he was at the capital, despite being a field commander.

After putting the final touches on the plan, he closed the last folder and leaned back in his chair. He looked at the clock on the wall; it was six in the morning. In five hours, he would be leaving for the border. But before that, there was another mission—one more personal—that he had to accomplish.

He couldn't postpone it any longer, so he got up from his seat, put on his watch, took his cell phone and coat, and left his office.

He headed to the elevator and went down to the ground floor, where the reception was already crowded with people when Sandro got out of the elevator. Officers, soldiers, and assistants who had just started their work greeted him respectfully as he passed, before he finally left the building.

When he stepped outside, the fresh morning wind blew against him, a stark contrast to the artificial coolness of the headquarters. He found his car, a sleek black vehicle with tinted windows, already waiting for him, with his driver standing by. The back door opened as Sandro approached.

"Good morning, Commander," the driver greeted him.

"Morning," Sandro replied as he entered the back seat. He adjusted his coat and sat back as the driver closed the door and started the engine.

"Where to, Commander?" the driver asked.

"Lorenzo."

"Understood, Commander."