The Marriage Sticker

I held the second-to-last sticker between my fingers, its yellow-and-pink petals trembling in the faint gusts funneling through the hangar. It felt alive somehow, as though the tiny flower was trying to whisper something to me, but its voice was lost in the engine noise and the shuffle of boots.

I pressed it to the jet’s nose cone with slow, deliberate care. Against the grey paintwork the little flower seemed to bloom, a defiant speck of colour on a machine built only for speed and fire. For a moment, it looked like it belonged there - like the aircraft itself had grown it.

My fingers lingered on the sticker. Then I tore myself away and clambered up the ladder to finish helping Raffy strap in.

He saw the pad at my hip before he even looked at me. His eyes flicked down to it as he reached for the oxygen pipe. Without breaking his movements, he spoke quietly:

“What happens when the pad runs out?”

I glanced down at it too - a single flower gleaming in a sea of white paper. My thumb brushed over it like a keepsake.

“Then I get another one,” I said lightly.

His eyes rose to meet mine, uncertain.

“Do you already have one?”

I nodded, tucking a stray strand of hair behind my ear.

“It’s on its way. Should be here soon.”

He clipped his mask into place, his voice muffled now.

“I hope I don’t need them anymore.”

A smile tugged at the corners of my mouth.

“I don’t think you will. I think this is the one.”

He looked up at me, a spark of hope flickering behind his visor.

“You think?”

“I know.”

I squeezed his shoulder - quick, firm - and then winked at him before jumping back down to the ground. My heart was loud in my chest as I dragged the ladder away.

A minute later, the roar began and he was gone again - gone to fight an enemy we ground crew never saw, an enemy we only knew through the holes it left behind. But even as I watched him disappear into the sky, I felt myself smiling.

I wasn’t going to let this chance slip away from me.

With a sharp hiss, Raffy’s jet braked hard, shuddering as it rolled to a stop. The tractor growled forward, hitching to the nose gear, and began to push the fighter back into the hangar.

I jogged alongside, keeping to the edge of the concrete, conscious that the knife-sharp leading edge of the wing could split me open if I misstepped. I ducked under the fuselage, waiting until the aircraft straightened on its tow, and then slipped out toward the nose cone.

The sticker was gone - of course it was - and so was one of the two missiles. But between my fingers already sat the final sticker: the last flower in the pad. Its petals trembled against my skin, a soft echo of my pulse.

In one deft, practiced movement, I pressed the yellow-and-pink blossom into place. Against the metal it looked almost identical to the one that had been torn away; no one who hadn’t watched the ritual would know it wasn’t the original.

Plan complete. Rules broken. My heart drummed against my ribs as I ran to drag the ladder into place. The tractor halted the jet precisely on its parking lines, and I climbed up, my legs trembling with adrenaline.

Raffy was already unfastening his straps when I reached him. I helped with his helmet, my fingers brushing his as I lifted it off. His brown eyes flashed up to mine - tired but still alive.

“Is the sticker still there?” he asked, voice almost boyishly hopeful.

No answer would form on my lips. Instead, I leaned dangerously far forward, my arms braced on the cockpit frame, and without hesitation pressed my mouth to his.

It was short, clumsy even, but those seconds stretched into an eternity. I didn’t want them to end. When my arms finally gave and I pulled back, his expression - shock first, then a rising blush - told me everything I needed to know.

I smiled, nervous but certain now, and offered my hand. It took him a few seconds to process, but then his fingers closed around mine and I heaved him out of the cramped cockpit.

As soon as his boots hit the hangar floor he bolted for the nose cone. Disbelief spread across his face as his gaze locked on the lone flower sitting proudly on the jet’s “forehead.” He flicked his head from the sticker to me, back to the sticker, then to me again, as if trying to reconcile the two.

I closed the distance and slid my arms around his waist from behind. He turned in surprise just as I kissed him again, harder this time.

And this time he kissed back, everything unspoken pouring out of him at once. His arms wrapped around me and for a heartbeat the hangar, the war, the noise - all of it vanished.

I wanted the moment to last forever.