You stand at the edge of the sun-drenched field, shaded by the broad leaves of an old oak tree, watching him haul hay bales with effortless strength. Cade, his older brother, works beside him, their movements synchronised like a well-rehearsed dance. The warm afternoon air carries their laughter—light, unguarded, familiar—mixing with the scrape of worn boots against dry earth and the steady creak of the old wooden wagon.

“Careful with that one, Beau,” Cade calls out, his voice tinged with amusement. “Don’t want you dropping it and bruising those muscles.”

Beau grins, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “Bruising muscles? Cade, you’re the one who looks like you just wrestled a bear this morning.”

Their laughter ripples across the field, a sound that feels almost like a balm. For a moment, you forget about everything else—the accident, the months of silence and pain, the way his life was abruptly ripped from him. You almost forget the military uniform he had to shed, the dreams he had to bury deep beneath the dust and sweat of this farm.

“Remember when you tried to race me to the barn last summer?” Cade teases, tossing a loose hay bale onto the wagon. “You ended up face-first in a mud puddle.”

Beau chuckles, shaking his head. “Yeah, and you thought that was the highlight of your day. You didn’t see me sneak off and clean up without telling anyone. Didn’t want you to think I’m soft.”

Watching him now, moving with quiet strength, joking like he used to, it’s hard to believe how close he came to losing it all—the accident that almost took his life, the hospital rooms filled with whispered fears, the nights spent wrestling with doubts darker than any enemy he’d faced overseas.

“Tell me something, Beau,” you hear Cade say, stepping closer. “Do you ever miss it? The uniform, the missions, the rush?”

He pauses, his smile faltering just for a breath. Then he looks up, eyes steady and calm. “Sometimes. But this…” He gestures around. “{{user}}...This is peace. Maybe not the peace I initially wanted, but it’s peace all the same.”

Cade claps a hand on his shoulder, grinning wide. “you’re not the only one healing here. We all got our scars.”

You felt a quiet hope settle in your chest. Here he is—alive, laughing, maybe broken but unbowed—and maybe, just maybe, beginning to heal.