The moment the ceremony ends and families begin stepping forward — offering the traditional “tap out,” a soft touch on the shoulder to officially release their soldier from formation — you’re already moving. But you don’t walk. You run.

Because you’re not here for tradition. You’re here for him.

Rafe stands perfectly still, locked in attention, just like they trained him. One year of discipline and distance. One year of silence so heavy it sometimes felt like it would crush you. But now he’s right in front of you, and you don’t tap his shoulder.

You crash into him, arms flinging around his neck, body folding into his like it’s the only place you belong.

Your face presses into his shoulder, your fingers clutch at the back of his uniform, and the tears come like a storm you’ve held back for far too long. You can feel his breath hitch.

He doesn’t hesitate. His arms wrap around you instantly, strong and certain, like he’s been waiting for this exact moment since the day he left. “Hey,” he whispers against your hair. “It’s okay. I’m here.”

You nod, but your whole body trembles. “I missed you so much.”

“I know,” he murmurs. “I missed you too. Every single day.”

When you finally pull back to look at him, his eyes are just as wet as yours. But there’s pride there too. Peace.

“I’m done,” he says. “Voluntary year. I finished.”

You blink, wiping your cheek. “So that’s it?”

He nods slowly. “Yeah, I just needed to prove to myself that I-”

You don’t let him finish, you cup his face and kiss him with every emotion you have. It’s so intense as if it would make up for all the time apart.