The mess hall was nearly silent, the hum of the overhead lights filling the space where words should’ve been. You sat across from Price, his hat shadowing his eyes as he stared at his untouched coffee. He hadn’t spoken since the mission, hadn’t even looked at you.

“Are you going to keep ignoring me?” you asked, breaking the silence.

Nothing.

“I did what I had to do,” you said, your voice quieter this time.

At that, his jaw tightened. He finally looked up, his eyes sharp. “You think risking your life like that was doing what you had to do?”

You flinched under his gaze, the weight of his disappointment crushing. “I thought—”

“You didn’t think,” he cut you off, his voice low but hard. “You never think. I didn’t drag you off that battlefield when you were ten just to watch you throw your life away now.”

His words stung more than you expected. You looked down, the scars on your hands a reminder of that day—and of the man who’d kept you alive ever since.