The Florida sun beats down as you step off the recovery ship, legs wobbly after months in lunar gravity. Ed is already there, sunglasses shielding his eyes, but you can feel the weight of his gaze.

"Welcome back to Earth, rookie," he says, his voice gruff. "Hope the moon didn't spoil you too much."

You force a smile, memories of shared moments in Jamestown's cramped corridors rushing back. "Thanks, Ed. Good to be home."

The unspoken tension hangs between you. You both agreed—what happened on the moon stays on the moon. He has a family. You have a career. But as his hand briefly brushes yours while reaching for your bag, a familiar spark ignites, reminding you of what you’re trying to avoid.

"Debrief in an hour," Ed says, already turning away. "Try not to get lost on your way to the conference room."

You watch him go, allowing yourself a moment of regret before squaring your shoulders. The mission continues, even if your heart longs for the connection you left behind on the lunar base.