The General's Daughter: The Mission

Chapter 259: The Man Who Cared For Her 2

Lara collapsed onto the grass after two relentless hours of practice, her chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. Pain throbbed through her legs and hips, deep and sharp, as though the muscles had been twisted apart strand by strand.

At only one hundred and forty-eight centimeters tall, driving the military jeep was torture.

The driver’s seat had already been shoved as far forward as it could go, leaving her tiny frame almost pressed against the steering wheel just so the tips of her shoes could fully reach the pedals. Even then, every clutch and brake felt like forcing life back into dead limbs. By the end of practice, her legs had turned to jelly and her hips burned unbearably from stretching farther than they should.

The scent of grass and warm earth filled the air as she stared upward, trying to recover.

Beside her, Aquilo lowered himself onto the ground with far less struggle. He folded his arms behind his head, eyes half-lidded as the wind rustled through the branches above them.

"Can I call you Big Brother?" Lara asked softly.

The question carried an innocence that made him pause.

She did not have an elder brother. Somewhere deep inside, she had always wanted one.

Aquilo fell silent for several seconds.

He did not want to be her brother.

"Just call me Aquilo," he finally said. "If it’s too long, call me Aquil."

Lara let out a small laugh, light and bright beneath the shade of the tree.

"You only removed one letter."

Above them stretched a vast blue sky without a single cloud. A thick branch from the old tree overhead cast shifting shadows across the grass, protecting them from the harsh afternoon sun.

"Aquil," Lara called again in her youthful voice, "how did you come here? Do you know my father?"

"Yes," he answered without hesitation. "I’m a cadet under him."

Lara lifted her arm to check the time. Wrapped around her slim wrist was a bulky black watch that looked painfully out of place on someone her size.

Aquilo’s eyes lingered on it longer than they should have.

The thing was ugly—plain, oversized, and heavy, like a discarded man’s watch forced onto a child.

Was it her father’s?

The moment Lara noticed the time, her eyes widened.

"Ah!"

She scrambled to her feet in a panic, nearly stumbling from the soreness in her legs. Aquilo pushed himself upright as well, watching her dust grass from her clothes.

"Aquil, Dad will be back soon," she said hurriedly. "Thank you for teaching me."

She gave him a small respectful nod before dashing toward the jeep.

Aquilo watched her go in silence.

Her long dark hair had been braided into a single braid down her back, swaying from side to side as her pace quickened.

He exhaled slowly.

He didn’t understand it himself, but he liked the girl.

Maybe it was pity.

She was simply too small to be enduring hardships meant for adults.

...

The relentless blare of a car horn shattered Lara’s concentration.

Startled, she slammed on the brakes. Tires screeched against the road as a black sedan swerved violently beside her, stopping so close she could see the scratches along its doors.

The driver’s window rolled down.

A thick-bearded man leaned out, the sharp stench of alcohol practically pouring from the car with him. His bloodshot eyes burned with fury as he glared at Lara.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" he barked. "Trying to get yourself killed? If you want to throw your life away, do it alone instead of dragging decent people into your suicide!"

He threw up his middle finger viciously.

The sudden shouting rattled Lara. Her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She breathed heavily a few times before answering.

"Sorry," Lara said quickly, lowering her head slightly. "That was my fault."

But the man wasn’t interested in ending it there.

"Of course it was your fault," he snapped. "Women like you always think saying sorry fixes everything."

His eyes swept over her slender frame behind the wheel, and his expression twisted with ridicule.

"Who even let you drive?" he scoffed. "Can’t park, can’t stay in your lane, probably can’t even tell the brake from the accelerator."

A few people who were walking on the sidewalk began glancing toward them, but the man only grew louder.

"I swear, women shouldn’t be allowed behind the wheel. Every damn time I see some girl driving, traffic turns into a circus." He laughed harshly. "Go home, play house, cook for your husband, raise kids—things women are actually useful for."

Lara’s fingers curled tighter around the steering wheel.

"Sir," she said carefully, forcing herself to remain calm, "I already apologized. Nobody was hurt, so let’s just leave it at that. I’ll be going now."

The man clicked his tongue in disgust.

"Yeah, run along before you kill somebody."

Lara’s expression turned cold as she looked at the man.

The change was so sudden that the drunk driver instinctively shrank back.

For a brief moment, his anger faltered.

He did not understand why, but under her gaze, he felt an inexplicable sense of danger creeping up his spine.

"Mister," Lara said calmly, her voice no longer carrying the patience from earlier, "you’re drunk. If I call the police right now, who do you think they’ll find violating traffic laws?"

Her tone remained even and composed, yet the man felt strangely pressured, as though the small girl before him had suddenly become someone he could not provoke carelessly.

His face twitched.

He wanted to curse at her again—to spit out another filthy insult—but the icy steadiness in her eyes made the words lodge in his throat.

In the end, he swallowed them back.

Click.

He rolled the window up harshly, muttering curses under his breath as he stepped hard on the accelerator and sped away, unwilling to stay another second beneath that frightening stare.

Lara slowly rolled her window back up and restarted the engine.

As the jeep rumbled to life, her thoughts drifted once more to Aquilo.

So... she had known him even back then.

In those years clouded by loneliness and hardship, he had been there beside her—her light in the darkness, the small piece of warmth she could cling to without realizing it.

No wonder the photograph he sent her felt so intimate.

In the picture, they sat shoulder to shoulder, close enough that there was barely any space between them. She remembered how naturally they had leaned toward each other, as though the distance had never existed in the first place.

Lara’s fingers tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

Was he... her boyfriend?