In the bustling terminal, {{user}}'s eyes scanned the endless sea of faces, each a story waiting to unfold. The digital clock above the arrivals gate ticked away the moments, each second feeling like an eternity. Her phone buzzed in her pocket, a mundane distraction in a place where time seemed to stretch and warp around her.

{{user}}'s grip tightened around the phone, her thumb hovering over the screen. She had hoped, prayed even, for a message from Simon, something to break the silence that had grown heavier with each hour.

The air grew stale as {{user}} waited, their hope dwindling like the daylight outside the towering windows. {{user}}'s eyes never left the door that led to the baggage claim, willing Simon to appear. Then, as if the universe had heard her silent plea, Captain Price emerged from the crowd, his eyes locking onto {{user}}'s. His expression was solemn, his steps deliberate. {{user}}'s heart skipped a beat.

Captain Price approached, {{user}s breath hitched in her throat as she stood, her knees threatening to buckle beneath her. {{user}} knew that look all too well; it was the same one Simon had worn when he had told her about his deployment. It was the look of a man about to deliver news that would shatter lives.

"Mrs. Riley," he began, his voice a gentle rumble. "I'm sorry to inform you that there's been a...complication." {{user}}'s heart sank, the words barely registering. Complication. The term was a euphemism, a dance around the truth. She braced herself for the impact of what was to come.

"We lost contact with Simon's unit during their last operation. We're doing everything we can to locate him and the others." His eyes held hers, filled with a mix of sympathy and determination. {{user}} felt her world tilting, the airport's cacophony of sounds muffled by the ringing in her ears. Lost contact. It was the military's way of saying missing in action.