Before Our Dawn| ongoing

twenty-six

Hans, sensing her reaction, quickly realized that his words had struck a chord. He hastened to apologize, his tone sincere. "I didn't mean to offend you. I only meant to say that you and your daughter share a striking resemblance."

Isra, still taken aback by the compliment, didn't respond.

Five minutes passed. They approached the vicinity of the shop, but he deliberately stopped short. Then, as if a thought had just occurred to him, Hans reached into his pocket and pulled out two folded papers. With a somewhat sheepish smile, he held them out towards Isra.

"I almost forgot," he said. "These are the papers they didn't return to you last night."

Her eyes widened in surprise as she reached out to accept the papers. She had assumed those documents were lost for good. "Thank you. I thought I would have to go through a lot of trouble to replace these."

"Not a problem. I'm glad I could help."

With a small, almost imperceptible smile, she made known her appreciation. "Well... I'll be going now."

"Wait, Isra."

Bewilderment crossed her expression. "How do you know my name?"

He flushed, realizing his mistake. "The papers. They had your name and your daughter's."

Right. How could she have forgotten that?

"My name is Hans," he told her, standing up a bit straighter, though his cheeks were still blushing. "Hans Ziegler."

She glanced right and left, hoping nobody would notice her interaction with an enemy soldier. "Hans," she repeated his name and held Sophie closer. "Nice to... meet you..."

He grinned at the sound of his name falling from her lips, but she recoiled, anxious and afraid and unsure of what this was. "I must be going now. Thank you for returning my papers."

"Of course." His blush completely receded, and confidence strode in. "Have a wonderful day, Isra."

She hurriedly turned and walked away, heading inside the shop to start her day's work.

Like yesterday, he watched her go.  But now, he couldn't stop smiling.

━━━━━━ ◦ ❖ ◦ ━━━━━━

Serving as a soldier had grown monotonous for Hans. He found himself relieved that he wasn't stationed at the frontlines of the war, but patrolling the city in search of Jews to persecute offered no reprieve; in fact, it might have been worse. His comrades, Friedrich and Kurt, however, appeared to revel in this grim game of cat and mouse. The trio had departed from Hotel Meurice after receiving their assignment. Raids and random checks had become routine, and today happened to be one of those dreaded days.

Their patrol had taken them through several arrondissements, yet they hadn't encountered any Jews. It was a grim task, knowing that those they sought would not be brazenly visible or openly admit their heritage. Most likely, the Jews they were searching for possessed forged documents, and Hans had seen many that were glaringly false. However, he couldn't bring himself to make any arrests, unwilling to add more suffering to an already cruel world. He was acutely aware of the horrors of the camps, and the death sentences they represented for those sent there. Friedrich and Kurt remained blissfully ignorant of these realities, having never witnessed the true extent of the atrocities committed by the very regime they served. Hans couldn't help but feel a deep sense of pity for them.

Today has been uneventful," Kurt grumbled, his gaze lazily scanning the streets for any signs of trouble. If none presented itself, he seemed ready to provoke it. "Where are all the damn Jews?" he exclaimed, his frustration evident.