Chapter 1
In the vast sea of humanity, I will search for my one true soulmate. If I find them, I am blessed; if not, I am doomed. He comes from a lineage of precision – a sniper from the reconnaissance unit. A scout has a keen understanding of people and situations, while a sniper’s only task is to strike immediately once a target is in sight. Unfortunately, he possesses the skills of both. And for her, the misfortune is that she is his target. Edmund Stark: We don’t know each other well enough yet; marriage is out of the question. Richard Hawthorne: We can take our time getting to know each other. Edmund Stark: But there’s no love between us. Richard Hawthorne: That’s not a requirement. Edmund Stark: Honestly, I don’t want to marry a soldier. ... It’s not about propitious timing or destiny, nor is it a thunderous romance filled with intense passion. Two souls who never sought love happen to cross paths in the mundane passage of time. At first, she was unaware that a soldier’s promise is meant to last a lifetime, once spoken... In a bustling town like Clifton, where everyone knows everyone, life has its expected rhythms. But for Richard Hawthorne, it’s an existence tinged with both expectation and obligation, bound by family ties and the weight of legacy. He stands on the edge of tradition, caught between what is expected of him and what he truly desires. Meanwhile, Edmund Stark, a man defined by discipline and sharp focus, finds himself embroiled in a personal conflict as he meets Lydia Hawthorne, Richard’s younger sister. With her vivacious spirit and dreams of freedom, she draws him into a world unlike his own. As their lives intertwine, an inner turmoil simmers beneath the surface. The background of military life and the pressure that comes with it loom ominously, drawing a line between duty and desire. In the grand hall of Hawthorne Manor, family gatherings flood with cheerful laughter and lively debates. Yet, in the quieter corners, Edmund's thoughts drift towards Lydia, her enchanting smile and carefreeness a shocking contrast to his own regimented life. Richard's insistence on gradually familiarizing himself with the alluring Lydia complicates the dynamics further. The sheer weight of societal expectations threatens to snuff out the flicker of something genuine between them. Deep down, Edmund wrestles with his hesitance. He knows what it means to take a life with precision and cold calculation, but the thought of exploring a relationship with Lydia drives him to question everything he knows. However, Lydia remains blissfully unaware, with dreams that stretch beyond the horizon – a life filled with joy, love, and everything that seems just beyond reach. As she dances through life, unaware of the silent struggle of those around her, the promise of the future hangs delicately in the air, waiting to be claimed. The journey ahead is laden with challenges, yet it’s also laced with the possibility of love that neither Edmund nor Lydia had ever anticipated. As certainty clashes with desire, each will have to decide what it really means to promise a lifetime.
Chapter 2
**Prologue** It was March, but the snow in Linchashire kept falling harder and harder. Flakes descended softly, blanketing the freshly blossomed peach trees and landing gently on the panicked crowd below, amplifying their fear. It should have been a time to admire the beauty of spring, but the lovely snowflakes had brought with them disaster. An avalanche loomed, a deluge of white perilously rushing toward them. People screamed and ran, the scene quickly descending into chaos. In the midst of this turmoil, Edmund Stark awoke to the overwhelming sound of snow filling his ears, a buzzing noise drowning out his thoughts. He couldn’t remember how he had ended up here, nor could he clearly recall how the avalanche had happened. All he knew was that he was trapped in snow, his limbs immobilized. After a moment of bewilderment, he burrowed deeper into his thick coat for warmth. The snow seeped into his body, mixing warmth with a creeping chill. Listening to the noisy chaos outside, he found himself surprisingly calm. Suddenly, a small, trembling voice broke through the turmoil, asking, “Aren’t you cold? Why are you smiling?” He strained to look down and discovered that, tucked under his coat, was a young girl. Edmund gazed at her and whispered, “I’m not cold.” The girl looked up at him, her big, dark eyes blinking in confusion. “It’s because I remember something someone once told me. They said that a person with many memories can find warmth in their recollections.” Edmund’s thoughts began to drift away again. He recalled the stories of his time in The High Lands, where he had served in the military and eventually joined a special operations unit, knowing that danger lurked at every corner, and he had faced life-and-death situations. He remembered lying hidden in the snow for two days, his extremities numb from the cold, yet he held his gun tight. His commanding officer had seen his tense demeanor and advised him to relax, to think about something joyful instead. And so, he had searched his mind for happy thoughts, and as he did, the cold slowly faded away. Now, as he shivered in the snow, he too began to ponder—what could he remember that would bring warmth? He closed his eyes, letting memories flood back—so many beautiful ones. What were those moments of happiness from the past? As he contemplated, his eyes gradually fluttered shut.
Chapter 3
It was autumn in Clifton, the kind of rainy season that brought in fierce gusts of cold wind, making raindrops pelt against the windows. Sitting by the window, Edmund Stark sighed, knowing he would soon have to brave the storm to get home. Just then, Isabella Fairchild, a fellow teacher, breezed into the office. "Edmund, no classes this afternoon," she announced cheerfully. Edmund smiled lightly, "I just finished a class." "The weather has been so bizarre lately," Isabella continued. "Seems like we just dodge one shower when another one rolls in. You're riding your bike to work, right?" "Yeah," Edmund replied, his tone casual. Isabella had married a local counselor last month, and for the past few days, she’d been enjoying the luxury of a car service to and from the office, reveling in the attention. Seeing that she was just trying to make him envious, he let the conversation fade away, and the office turned quiet again until another door burst open, shattering the silence. "Edmund!" a young girl with braided pigtails rushed in, clearly frazzled. It took Edmund a moment to realize this was Chloe Wells, the class president he had appointed just last week. "What’s wrong?" he asked, concerned. "There's a fight breaking out in class, and I can't stop it!" Chloe stammered. Edmund furrowed his brow. "Okay, go back. I'll be there shortly." As a young teacher, Edmund had a busy schedule, especially since most of the students at Alderwood School were children of local leaders and often a handful themselves. He couldn't help but sigh as he thought about the trouble brewing—again. When he entered the classroom, he found two groups formed behind two boys who were clearly in the middle of a scrap. Both boys bore bruises on their faces, and one was crying, wiping his nose in a dramatic fashion as the other stood defiantly, head held high. "Lydia Hawthorne, you hurt him. Apologize!” Chloe shouted, frustration evident in her voice. The boy with the proud demeanor glanced at her and then turned his head away dismissively. "Lydia, come on!” Chloe insisted, practically stamping her foot. "No way," Lydia retorted, her eyes flaring with defiance. "What side are you on? If you’re on my team, then don’t ask me to apologize to the enemy. My dad always says, 'Better to die fighting than to yield.'" Chloe was momentarily taken aback, her heartbeat quickening as she realized Edmund had arrived. As he stepped into the classroom, his gaze landed immediately on the two instigators—Lydia Hawthorne and Willow Eastwood, notorious troublemakers who were often at odds but had never faced off in such a direct confrontation. "What’s going on?" he asked, trying to keep his tone level. Willow Eastwood sniffled, tears streaming down his cheeks as he pointed an accusatory finger at Lydia. "Edmund, I barely said anything to her, and she just pummeled me! You have to do something!" Edmund gently patted Willow’s head, sensing the boy’s upheaval. "What did you say?" Willow took a shaky breath and replied, "I-I just mentioned how her dad probably wouldn’t show up for parent-teacher conferences again, and then she, well, she clocked me." "Well, honestly, you kind of deserved it," Lydia shot back, her tone scathing, like a cat that had just been stepped on. "No wonder," Edmund thought, stepping in to mediate. "Alright, everyone, let’s calm down and call it a day. Lydia, Willow, both of you go home and think about this. We’ll sort it out later."
Chapter 4
“Lydia Hawthorne, please come to my office,” Master Gregory called out, pointing at the fuming girl. Lydia Hawthorne, her brow furrowed, pouted and reluctantly grabbed her backpack, marching behind Master Gregory amid the curious stares of her classmates. The rain had finally stopped. Edmund Stark, sitting by his desk, glanced at Lydia standing against the wall. He waved her over. “Not happy, huh?” Lydia crossed her arms and remained silent, still seething. “Did you throw the first punch?” Edmund asked. “Yeah,” she admitted reluctantly, quickly adding, “But I didn’t think he’d fall over so easily when I just tapped him!” Edmund chuckled. “So, why did you hit Willow Eastwood?” “Because he said my dad wasn’t coming to parent-teacher night!” she replied, her voice rising defensively. “Ah.” Edmund leaned back in his chair. “Hasn’t he missed a few?” Lydia blinked, caught off guard, and fell silent. After some time, she muttered, “Master Gregory, you can’t solve everything through conflict.” This girl... Edmund thought for a moment. “How about this? Give me your dad’s phone number. I’ll personally reach out to him.” Lydia’s eyes widened in disbelief. “Stark’s?” “Of course.” Her frown transformed into a bright smile as she retrieved her phone. “Master Gregory, here, use mine! He’ll pick up since it’s my number.” The line connected quickly. Before Edmund could say a word, he was greeted by a barrage of enthusiastic chatter. “Young lady! Your esteemed officer is busy right now. What trouble has Master Gregory caused this time? Why are you calling at this hour?” Edmund paused, then cut in with his clear voice, “I’m Master Gregory, Lydia’s teacher.” On the other end, the chatter suddenly ceased. It took a moment for the person to recover. “Oh, Master Gregory, hello! Lydia’s parent is in a meeting right now and can’t take your call. I’m Young Mark, her communications officer. How can I assist you?” That person shifted gears quickly. Edmund felt a twitch in his mouth. “Not much. Just wanted to inform Lydia’s parent about the upcoming parent-teacher night. Lydia would really like her dad to be there, so I hope he can make it.” “Oh,” came the measured reply. “If any issues arise, he can reach out to me. However, if education truly comes first, I doubt it should be a major challenge.” Edmund left his number and ended the call, ruffling Lydia's hair. “Lydia, I’m sure Master Gregory will have your dad there. But remember, you shouldn’t be getting into fights over these things.” However, instead of looking thrilled like he expected, Lydia sulked, “Master Gregory, do you know what my dad does for a living?” “Uh... No.” He realized he had no clue. With a heavy sigh, Lydia said, “My dad’s in the army.”
Chapter 5
Edmund Stark stared at his phone in disbelief. A soldier? --- By the time he returned home, it was already late. After locking his car, Edmund took a relaxed stroll up the staircase of his aging apartment building, dust swirling in the dim light. He fished out his keys and opened the door, only to have it swung wide open from the inside. A kind, familiar face peeked out: “Young Stark, you’re back!” “Grandmother Agatha,” Edmund smiled as he set down his bag. “You must be hungry. I'll whip up something quick.” Master Gregory’s old building had seen better days, and Agatha eyed him closely, noting the droplets on his clothes. “There’s no rush. First, take a shower and change. You look soaked.” After a speedy shower, Edmund tied his damp hair back and headed into the kitchen. Grandmother Agatha followed, her curiosity piqued. “Why are you back so late? Did something happen at work?” “It was just a meeting,” he replied casually, stirring a pot. “By the way, our school is raising funds to buy a property, and I was thinking maybe we should consider getting a new place.” “Really? How much is that going to cost?” Agatha's expression softened with concern. “Don’t worry. I’ve saved up a bit. I can handle the down payment, and the rest I’ll pay off monthly.” Agatha sighed, brushing back a stray hair from his forehead. “It sounds tough, dear. I think what’s most important right now is you, not a house.” Edmund frowned, puzzled. “What do you mean, my own affairs?” With a twinkle in her eye, Agatha chuckled, “You’re twenty-seven! What do you think I mean?” Realization washed over him, and he quickly turned away. “I’m not in a hurry.” “Well, I am,” she nipped back. “Isabella Fairchild next door mentioned she might have someone in mind for you! I was waiting for you to return so we can set up a meeting.” Edmund sighed, conceding. “If there’s someone, I guess I could meet them.” Agatha beamed with satisfaction. Then, remembering something, playfully tapped him on the forehead. “You better not brush this off.” “Got it,” Edmund feigned impatience. “But first, let me cook.” Finally alone, he chuckled at the stove, shaking his head. As he stirred, the door suddenly creaked open again. “Edmund, phone call!” Grandmother Agatha called, practically bouncing in joy. “It’s a man!” A man? Edmund felt a lump form in his throat. He turned off the burner and took the call. “Hello, this is Edmund Stark.” “Hi, Mr. Stark, this is Richard Hawthorne, Lydia’s parent.” “Oh, hello!” “I’ve been busy today, and I apologize for calling at such a late hour. Is there something wrong?” “Not at all. Lydia mentioned you might not make it to the parent-teacher meeting, so I wanted to confirm.” Ah, how sweet of the boy. Edmund thought to himself, before asking, “When is the meeting?” “In two days.” Richard chuckled lightly. “That works for me. I’ll be there.” “Great. I’m relieved,” Edmund said and hung up, a weight lifted off his shoulders. Agatha leaned in eagerly. “Who was that?” Rubbing his temples, Edmund groaned, “Grandmother Agatha, it’s just a parent from my class.” She pursed her lips, clearly not satisfied. “Right, just trying to help with your future. I don’t see anyone else caring about your well-being like I do.”
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