In the picture, his wife smiled warmly, her eyes full of a kind of light that had always grounded him. In her arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, was their baby—tiny, peaceful, unaware of the distance that separated their family.
John stared at it for a long moment, his expression softening.
“This is why,” he whispered quietly to himself.
Every long patrol.
Every sleepless night.
Every moment of fear.
It all came back to that picture.
Back to home.
