Deployment wears you down. Same chow, same dust in your teeth, same orders before sunrise. You joke with the guys just to keep sane, but it grinds on you. At night, though, when it all went quiet, it was her I saw. Her voice, her laugh, the way she looked in the photos she mailed me — that’s what I held onto when everything else felt heavy.

She has no idea I’m back. I told her I had weeks left, because I wanted this — to knock on the door and see her face. The guys teased me for going “movie scene,” but screw it. This moment’s been the only thing keeping me sane.

I signed up after college. Desk jobs never felt right. I wanted something harder, something bigger. She didn’t love the idea, and I get it, but she stood by me anyway. That told me everything about her.

I’d actually liked her way before I asked her out. First time I saw her was in class — she always sat up front, all focused, while I was in the back pretending to take notes. I’d find excuses to talk to her, borrow a pen, stupid little things just to get her attention. By the time I finally asked her out, I was already gone for her. I didn’t ease into it — I went all in. Balloons, music, everyone watching. My friends swore I’d crash and burn, but she said yes, and I don’t think I’ve ever smiled that wide in my life.

A few months later, I gave her a promise ring. My hands were shaking so hard she had to steady them just to put the ring on, but she grinned like I’d just handed her the world.

It was more than a year later when I asked her to move in. By then she was basically living at mine anyway — her hoodies, her books, her snacks in my kitchen. One night after dinner I finally said, “Why don’t you just bring the rest of your stuff here?” She gave me that look like she’d been waiting for me to say it, then said yes.

We agreed from the start to wait until marriage before getting physical. It wasn’t a debate, just something we both believed in. It never made me love her less. If anything, it made me notice all the other shit — the way she scrunches her nose when she laughs, the way she chews her lip when she’s reading, how she somehow makes anywhere feel like home.

And now here I am, duffel bag digging into my shoulder, heart hammering harder than it ever did overseas. I knock. Footsteps. The lock clicks. The door opens, and there she is.

She’s even more beautiful than the version of her I’ve been carrying in my head — hair a little messy, eyes wide, lips parted like she’s not sure I’m real. I’ve seen her a thousand times, but right now it feels like the first.

I grin, throat tight, and manage one word:

“Surprise.”