Chapter 21 - INGA
Tonight had been one of the worst. Before I stepped outside and saw him standing under the lantern, everything hurt: my feet, my shoulders, my pride. Die Ecke had been packed with airmen and soldiers from three different sectors, all loud, all restless, all hungry for distraction.
One English soldier slapped my backside so hard my eyes watered.
I spun and dumped a full mug of beer over his head, and my boss made me pay for the beer.
Then a French officer pulled me into his lap and pretended it was a joke when I shoved myself free. A Russian in civilian clothes tried to follow me to the supply room until Elke stepped in and told him a British MP was watching.
Drunk men sang off-key. Someone vomited in the corner. A glass shattered when two Americans started a fistfight over a pack of cigarettes.
And I had to clean it all.
By eleven, my head throbbed. By midnight, my insides felt hollow and shaking. By closing, I wanted to curl up on the floor and disappear. So when I pushed open the door and stepped into the cool night air, I wasn't expecting a miracle. But there he was.
Gideon Griffin.
Standing under the lantern as if he'd been painted there by some generous dream. For one foolish second, the world softened. The noise faded. My heart stopped hurting.
A thought hit me uninvited, childish, reckless. What if he were my boyfriend?
What if this—this man with the gentle eyes and impossible shoulders and quiet strength—was really here for me? My stomach fluttered, betraying me completely. Because it wasn't just gratitude. It wasn't just what he'd done for Klaus, Axel, and Hilde.
It was him.
The way his presence settled me, steadied me, like I didn't have to hold up the sky alone.
A dangerous notion.
So dangerous.
He could leave Berlin tomorrow.
He could vanish like everything good in my life.
And I'd be standing in the ruins again, clutching nothing.
But God…
How I wanted to believe him. To believe this was more than a GI being kind for a week. More than attention. More than hunger dressed up as affection.
Then he kissed me. And something deep inside me cracked open like a frozen river breaking in spring. When he dropped to one knee—when I saw the velvet box—my entire world stopped. My heart screamed.
My mind screamed louder. This isn't real, it insisted. You don't know him. You don't know anything about him. He's American. He'll leave you. He'll leave Klaus. He'll break you.
But my heart—my stupid, desperate heart—beat so hard I thought I'd collapse.
Boom-boom-boom.
Gid-e-on.
Gid-e-on.
I didn't know anything about him. I knew that. But I also knew this: he had carried me out of danger. He had protected me when I froze. He had fed my brother, fed Axel, fed Hilde. He had patched our home. He had looked at me like I was worth something. When he hadn't needed to.
His voice shook as he spoke. And each word tore me further open: Warm. Strong. Giving.
The message was clear and oh-so-alluring: Let me take care of you.
No one had ever said anything like that to me. No one ever would again.
Tears streamed down my cheeks, hot and unstoppable, because for the first time since before the war, I felt like a girl in a fairy tale. Like maybe—just maybe—someone could choose me. Not out of need or hunger or cruelty.
But out of love.
Real love.
He said he loved me.
And I believed him.
I believed him in the way a starving person believes bread exists when they finally smell it fresh from an oven. In the way a lost child believes safety exists when someone holds out a hand. I wanted this to be real so badly it hurt.
"I…" My voice broke. My knees shook. "I don't know what to say."
My mind still screamed: He's a stranger. Don't trust this. It will break you.
But my heart whispered, trembling: He sees you. He chooses you. This is real. Take it. Take it.
And between them—between fear and longing, ruin and hope, past and future—I stood trembling, breathless, unable to look away from the man who had just given me the most beautiful moment of my life.
My heart was beating so hard it hurt. My cheeks were wet.
My whole body trembled as if I'd stepped into a dream where nothing made sense, but everything felt right.
I loved him.
The realization struck me, not softly, but like a beam of light through the wreckage of my life, sudden, fierce, blinding. I loved him. I loved the way he looked at me, the way he protected Klaus, the way he saw me even when I tried so hard to hide.
I wanted him. I wanted to rest. I wanted to lean. I wanted not to carry the world on my shoulders alone anymore. And if that made me weak, then fine.
If it made me foolish, then so be it.
If it hurt me later… well, everything in my life had already hurt. At least this—this love—felt warm and right. He stayed on one knee, chest rising and falling unevenly, eyes locked on mine like he was praying.
I took a breath that stuttered painfully in my chest. Then another. Then—
"Yes," I whispered.
His head jerked up.
"Yes?" he echoed, stunned.
"Y-yes," I laughed through tears. "Yes."
His face broke open, joy, disbelief, relief all crashing into each other, and then he surged to his feet, swept me into his arms, and crushed me against his chest with a sound that came from deep inside him, half-laugh, half-sob.
I wrapped my arms around his neck as he twirled me in a circle, lantern light and night sky spinning together.
I squealed, and he laughed, and for the first time in years—maybe ever—I felt weightless.
Like Berlin wasn't broken. Like I wasn't broken.
Like love was something that could actually happen to people like me.
He kissed me again—joyful this time, smiling against my mouth—and I melted into it, let myself feel all of it: safety, desire, hope, home.
When he pulled back, breathless, he put the ring on my finger. It was just slightly too big, but the sight of it made my heart lurch.
"Oh—Gideon—" It caught the lantern light and scattered it like shattered starlight.
I stared. Speechless. "Oh no… this is… this is too much," I whispered. "I can't… this is… I've never—"
I didn't know much about jewels, but I remembered my mother's ring, small, delicate, half the size of this stone.
She'd been so proud of it. Women used to lean close when she cleaned their flats, whispering their envy, their admiration.
Even the wealthy Hausfrauen she'd worked for hadn't owned anything like this.
"I…" my voice faltered, "I don't understand. This must be… glass? Or paste? I'll have to be careful with it; I don't want to scratch—"
His hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing a tear I hadn't realized was falling.
"It's real," he murmured. "Every bit of it. And you deserve more than this. A thousand times more."
I swallowed hard. The world tilted. The ring glittered like a dream I wasn't ready to wake from.
"Oh, Gideon… it's so beautiful. Thank you," I whispered.
He smiled—slow, bright, breathtakingly—and kissed my forehead.
"No," he said softly. "Thank you. You're making me the happiest man alive."
He pressed another kiss to my cheek, then pulled back, eyes gleaming with mischief and excitement.
"Now," he said, rubbing his hands together, "let's go see the children?" He grinned. "I have gifts."
We walked hand in hand through the warm night, and my fingers laced with his like they belonged there. Everything inside me felt new, tender, and trembling, and too big to fit in my chest. I kept touching the ring, afraid it would vanish if I blinked too long.
Gideon talked softly as we walked, his voice deep and calm and so reassuring. His thumb brushed the back of my hand like he was memorizing me.
"I spoke with my commanding officer," he said. "The paperwork has already been started. Two weeks, tops."
I nearly stumbled. "Two… weeks?"
"If everything goes smoothly," he continued, completely unfazed, "you and the kids will have a real roof over your heads. Heat. Windows. A proper bed for every one of you."
Heat.
Windows.
Beds.
My throat closed.
"Government housing?" I whispered, hardly daring to imagine.
He hesitated just long enough for me to hear the truth in the silence. "They won't give it unless everything is approved," he said gently. "So if not—I'll hire a realtor."
I stopped walking. "A realtor?"
He smiled at me under the lantern light, soft and earnest. "Yes. To help us find a place. A good one. A safe one. Something big enough for all of us."
All of us. The words sank into me slowly, sweetly, terrifyingly. Warmth flooded my chest, and with it a wave of dizzy disbelief.
"You can't just do that," I whispered. "Gideon… that costs… so much."
He lifted our joined hands and kissed my fingertips. "I promised to take care of you. Let me."
A soft sound escaped me—half laugh, half sob—and he pulled me close, tucking me against him like I belonged there. And maybe I did. Maybe for the first time in my life, I belonged somewhere.
We rounded the corner toward my street—the ruins jagged and familiar—when a small, frantic figure darted out from the shadows. Axel.
His face was white with terror. "Inga!" he gasped, breath hitching. "Inga—sie haben Klaus—!"
My heart stopped.
"They took Klaus!" he cried in German, clutching my arm. "The Russians! Two soldiers — they came— they— they grabbed him—"
The world went silent. Everything, the warm night, the happiness, the ring on my finger, fell away like a dream snapping in half.
"What?" I whispered. "Nein… nein… Axel, no…"
"I was coming to Die Ecke—" he panted. "About an hour ago—they stormed our place—they took him— they put him in a car— they drove— that way—"
He pointed down the dark street. My knees buckled. The world tilted.
No. No, no, no, no.
Not Klaus. Not my brother. Not the last piece of my family. My breath left me in a single, sharp sob. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. "Why?" I choked. "Why would they take him? He's just a little boy—he's harmless—why—?"
Gideon turned toward me, his jaw was clenched so tight I could see the muscle jump. "I don't know," he kept his voice low and dark and shaking with something dangerous. "But I'll find out."
His eyes locked on mine, burning with fury and promise.
"I swear to you, Inga," he said, voice breaking on my name, "I'll find out why—and I'll get him back."
I folded into him then, collapsing against his chest as the world tilted and fell away. His arms caught me instantly, holding me up, holding me together.
When he was sure I could stand on my own, he dropped into a crouch in front of Axel, gripping his shoulders gently but firmly.
"Which way?" he demanded.
Axel pointed again, shaking so hard his teeth chattered. Gideon rose and turned to me. His expression—God—I had never seen anything like it. All humanity stripped away. All warmth gone.
Just deadly focus.
"Inga," he said, and my name in his voice nearly broke me. "I need you to be strong now."
"I— I can't—" My voice tore apart.
"You can," he said fiercely. "You have to. I need to know you'll be safe so I can go after him."
I grabbed his jacket with shaking fingers, clinging to him as if my life depended on it. "Please—" I choked. "Please bring him back. Please—he's all I have—"
Gideon wrapped his arms around me, fierce and protective, holding me against his chest like he could shield me from the world. "I swear," he murmured into my hair.
His voice shook, with fury, with fear, with something deeper. "I swear on my life, Inga—I'll bring him home."
I sobbed against him, my entire body shaking uncontrollably. Because happiness always had a price. And this time, the price was Klaus.
My Klaus.
My little brother.
My heart.
Gideon pulled back just far enough to look me in the eyes. "I'm going," he said. "Stay with Axel and Hilde. Go to your friend's house, Elke, is it?"
Numbly, I nodded. He put a wad of dollar notes into my hand, "Just in case. And here," he scribbled something on a piece of paper, "this is my dad's number. If I don't come back, call him. He'll help." He took my chin in his hand and tilted it up, "Don't go anywhere until I'm back."
I nodded, even though every part of me screamed not to let go of him. He brushed his thumb across my cheek one last time. Soft, loving, and heartbreaking.
Then he turned and ran into the night.
And I collapsed to my knees in the dirt, clutching Axel as he cried, the warm breeze turning cold around us, the ring on my finger too bright, too beautiful, too cruel. "Please," I whispered into the darkness. "Please bring him back to me."