Ryder Steel was finally home. His boots hit the familiar pavement of his old neighborhood, and heads turned. Neighbors stepped out onto porches, eyes wide with joy, some with tears. They waved, called his name

“Ryder! Ryder Steel!”

like he was a hometown legend returning from some far-off story.

He gave a small nod, a tired smile, but his eyes scanned the crowd. Not for them. The house was just as he left it — chipped paint, porch swing swaying in the wind, the smell of his mother’s cooking slipping through the windows. His sister ran out first, arms open. His father stood tall with pride, his mother tearful and soft. It was everything he’d dreamed about in the trenches.

And yet… something was missing. No someone. He hadn’t seen you yet. But he was still looking. And he wouldn’t stop until he did.