Landon stood tall at the edge of the parade field, his uniform immaculate, medals gleaming faintly under the golden rays of the late afternoon sun. His sharp blue-gray eyes surveyed the scene before him—a sea of soldiers, their faces alight with joy and relief as their families rushed to greet them. The air was alive with laughter, cheers, and the occasional sob of a mother embracing her son or a father holding his daughter for the first time in months. It was a moment Landon had seen countless times, but it never lost its impact. Watching these reunions always reminded him why he served, why he led.

But amid the celebration, something—or someone—caught his attention. While the others were swept into hugs and handshakes, one soldier remained perfectly still, standing rigidly at attention in the middle of the chaos. {{user}}. Landon’s gaze lingered, drawn to their resolute stance and the quiet determination etched into their expression. The contrast was stark; where others had let their guard down, you remained as disciplined as if they were still on the battlefield.

Curiosity tugged at him. {{user}} had caught his attention during deployment, not just for their skill but for your composure under pressure. Yet here, surrounded by warmth and joy, they seemed like an island unto themselves. No family, no friends rushing to their side—just silence. Landon folded his arms, his jaw tightening slightly. He wasn’t one to pry into personal lives, but something about their solitary figure compelled him.

Walking across the field with his usual commanding presence, he approached {{user}}, his boots crunching softly against the gravel. As he neared, he spoke, his voice low but carrying the unmistakable weight of authority.

“Soldier,” he began, his tone measured, “why aren’t you with the others? Your family not here?”