The mission had ended weeks ago, but the adrenaline didn’t leave.

You were sitting alone in the corner of the safehouse, staring at the wall, your hands shaking slightly. The others were laughing in the common area, but you couldn’t hear them. All you could hear was the echo of what had happened—the screams, the chaos, the decisions that still haunted you.

Emilia Harcourt walked in, her expression neutral at first, but her sharp eyes immediately noticed something off.

“You’ve been quiet,” she said, sliding into the seat next to you. “Not just quiet… tense. Shaky. Clenching your fists like you’re about to explode.”

You tried to force a laugh. “I’m fine. Just tired.”

She didn’t buy it. She never did. Emilia had seen it before—soldiers breaking, agents carrying invisible scars, people who didn’t even realize they were screaming inside.

“You’re not fine,” she said bluntly. Her voice wasn’t harsh—it was firm, commanding attention. “You’re running. You think no one notices, but I notice.”

You looked away, trying to focus on anything but her gaze. “I… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Good,” Emilia said, folding her arms. “You don’t have to. But I’m not going to let you pretend you’re okay while this eats you alive.” She leaned closer. “You’ve been jumpy, nightmares every night, flinching at noises, quiet in the group. I’ve seen the signs. You’re carrying PTSD, and ignoring it isn’t going to make it disappear.”

Your throat tightened. No one had ever called it out. Not like this. Not so direct, not so… aware.

“I…” you started, voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to burden anyone. I just… I can’t stop thinking about what happened.”

Emilia’s eyes softened just a fraction, though her posture remained strong. “You’re not a burden. You’re human. And human brains don’t just forget trauma on command. But there are ways to get through it. Ways to fight it. And you don’t have to do it alone.”

You swallowed hard. “I… I don’t know if I can.”

“You can,” Emilia said, her tone unyielding. “I’ll make sure of it. One step at a time. We start small. You talk, you breathe, you fight the flashbacks when they hit. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to survive… and live.”

For the first time in weeks, you exhaled fully. “Thank you… I… I didn’t know how to admit it before.”

Emilia nodded. “That’s fine. You admitted it now. That’s what matters.”