Evening light spilled through the western window and fell across Hans's face. He stirred, squinting, and slowly lifted his hand to shield his eyes.
When Hans opened his eyes, he found himself in a setting so familiar, he could hardly believe it. The bed beneath him, the wooden walls, the newly refurbished door to the hallway—it was all unmistakably his room.
He sat up slowly, breath caught in his throat, and looked around to be sure. Everything was just as he remembered it.
Through the window, he saw the bustling little village. People passed by on the street, wearing familiar dresses and work clothes, even if he couldn't place a single face. Parked along the road were VW Beetles and small delivery lorries, just like before.
Then he looked down at himself. The black uniform was gone. So was the white Totenkopf and rose-pink waffenfarbe. Instead, he wore a simple shirt and trousers—the kind he remembered picking out with Emma on one of their Sunday outings.
A shiver ran through him. Could he really be home?
After all that time on the Eastern Front… after those last strange, disjointed days in that other world?
He stood quickly, heart pounding, and stumbled into the hallway.
In the kitchen, sunlight flickered across old wood and hanging pots. And there, sitting at the small dining table like she always did, was his mother.
"Ah, Hans! Finally awake, are you?" she said, smiling wide. "Come now—sit. You've been away too long. We missed you so much."
Hans stepped forward, wordless, and wrapped his arms around her. He kissed her on the cheek and held her tightly. Tears spilled down his cheeks before he could stop them.
She looked up, startled. "What's wrong? Are you crying?"Still, she smiled a little. He looked just like the little boy from years ago.
"It's nothing," he said, voice trembling. "I just thought... I'd never get to see you again."
She reached up, caressing his cheek with a tenderness that nearly broke him all over again. He sat beside her, his hand still wrapped around hers, kissing it gently.
Then he glanced around the room once more, eyes full of disbelief. His gaze drifted to the door.
"I don't see Emma anywhere. Where is she?"
A sly smile spread across his mother's face. She chuckled, voice light and teasing. "Ohoho, I see someone's eager. You've only just woken up and you're already asking for her?"
Hans turned pink, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Fufu," she continued. "Don't worry. She went to the market not long after you fell asleep."
Hans let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. Relief and anticipation bloomed in his chest.
His mother tilted her head, smiling knowingly. "Emma and I have so many questions for you… though I have a feeling, once she's back, I won't get much of your attention."
Before Hans could reply, the front door creaked open.
"I'm home, Mother!" came a sweet, unmistakable voice. The door clicked shut with a soft thud.
Hans didn't hesitate. His breath caught, and he was already moving, heart racing as he rushed into the hall.
There she stood—arms full of groceries, her long blonde hair catching the last light of day. Her eyes went wide with surprise as they met his.
Before she could say anything, he pulled her into his arms and kissed her—deeply, desperately.
The scent of her, the warmth of her lips, the feeling of her returning his embrace—it all collapsed into a single moment of impossible, overwhelming joy.
She tried to hold on to the groceries, but it was no use. They tumbled to the floor as Hans refused to let go. For a heartbeat, nothing else existed.
When they finally broke apart, Emma looked up at him, flushed and breathless.
"Hans… you should know when to hold back a little," she said, her voice soft with wonder, her eyes shining. "Mother's right there in the next room."
He opened his mouth to apologize, but she laughed—a half-scolding, half-dazed sound—and wrapped her arms around him again, burying her face in his chest.
In the doorway, Hans's mother stood watching with a soft smile and a shake of her head.
"All right, all right," she called, amused. "Save some of that affection for the dinner table. Emma, help me with the stew—you're not skipping chores just because he's back."
Emma sniffled and laughed at once, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand as she bent to gather the scattered groceries.
Leaning close to Hans, she whispered, "Tonight I'm making your favorite. So don't go running off anywhere."
Hans blushed, heart swelling. He followed her back to the dining room, the scent of home already filling the air.
That night they had a very fulfilling dinner and talked about their daily lives. But the main topic was what happened to Hans and his time at the front. Everyone laughed.
After dinner, the dishes were done, and the small bulb in the sitting room cast a soft, flickering yellow light.
Hans sat on the couch with Emma curled beside him, her head resting quietly on his shoulder.
She spoke softly, telling him how the town had changed while he was gone—the old tailor had finally retired, and the baker's daughter was getting married.
At that time, Hans's mother had retired to her room to give the couple some privacy. They had talked about Hans's time at the front and the last time he saw action.
He had recalled during dinner how he was lost in a deep, surreal dream after his vehicle was strafed. The three of them laughed it off. And he didn't think more at that time.
But despite the warmth of the moment, doubt gnawed at him. Something wasn't right. This time he could think more clearly.
He remembered being inside the vehicle and hurt badly in the head. Yet, according to Emma and his mother, they'd found him outside the wreckage, lying beside it.
That didn't make sense. And then there was the second doubt.
"How could the Germans find me?" Hans said aloud. "By the time that happened, all the Wehrmacht forces had pulled out of the area; even the Hungarians."
Emma remained silent, gently brushing his hair as her head rested against his shoulder. She didn't answer, and Hans couldn't guess what she was thinking.
The gesture was comforting, but the silence was haunting.
He couldn't shake the sense that something was deeply wrong. His heart ached. The pain in his chest grew—slowly, steadily.
Fear gripped him.Is this even real?
Without giving Emma a chance to react, he turned and hugged her tightly, eyes squeezed shut.
And surprisingly, in the darkness of his closed eyes... the face that came to him wasn't hers.
It was Hetzer.
Why would I dream of her?! he thought, clutching Emma even tighter.
"H-Hans?! What's wrong?!" Emma stuttered, trying to pull away. But he didn't let go.
To him, her voice was growing distant—fainter by the second—as if she were slowly fading into nothing.