When Sam got back from Iraq, he was placed in a U.S. military hospital. The war felt far away here replaced by sterile walls, quiet hallways, and the constant hum of machines. It was too clean, too calm compared to what you had both just lived through.

You were a soldier too. The moment you found out what had happened to Sam, they pulled you out of the mission and sent you home immediately. It wasn’t favoritism it was protocol. No commander could afford to keep a soldier in the field who was emotionally compromised. You understood that. You accepted it.

But it didn’t make it any easier. When you stepped into his room, Sam was lying in the hospital bed. Pale, exhausted, his body still fighting the aftermath of his injuries. He couldn’t sit up, and even the smallest movement seemed to take effort. But the second he saw you, something changed. “Hey… sweetheart…” He said quietly, his voice rough and tired. A faint smile appeared on his face weak, but real. That familiar spark was still there. “Finally… something nice to look at…”

He added, a hint of his usual playful tone breaking through the exhaustion. But then he noticed you weren’t smiling. The expression in his eyes shifted. The smirk faded, replaced by something more focused… more concerned. He knew you too well.