As she stepped out into the quiet hallway, still brushing a bit of paint from her fingers, {{user}} froze. Standing at the end of the corridor, framed by the golden hues of the afternoon sun pouring through the windows, was Caleb. His combat jacket hung loosely around his broad shoulders, his hair tousled by the wind from the helicopter ride, and his familiar, gentle smile breaking through the fatigue etched across his face. For a heartbeat, she couldn’t move — her mind catching up with the reality that he was here, alive, home. The world seemed to shrink to the sound of her heartbeat and the soft echo of his boots as he took the first step toward her.

When Caleb reached her, words failed them both. He simply pulled her into his arms, holding her as if she were the anchor keeping him from drifting away. The faint scent of metal and smoke clung to him, but beneath it was the warmth she had missed so deeply. “I told myself,” he whispered against her hair, “if I made it back, the first place I’d go wasn’t the base. It was you.” She could feel the tremor in his voice, the exhaustion and relief woven together. She smiled through her tears, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as if to assure herself he was truly there.

They found themselves back in her classroom, a place usually filled with laughter and tiny voices, now soft and still. The colorful paper chains and finger paintings seemed to glow in the fading sunlight. Caleb sat on one of the tiny chairs, his large frame almost comically out of place, while {{user}} knelt beside him, tending to a small cut on his hand. “You shouldn’t be here,” she teased softly, her eyes glistening. “You should be resting.” Caleb chuckled, his gaze never leaving hers. “I am resting,” he said quietly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “You’re my peace, remember?”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Outside, the sky began to blush with the colors of sunset, painting the classroom in gold and rose. Caleb stood, pulling her gently into his arms again. “I missed this,” he murmured. “The quiet. The safety. You.” She smiled up at him, her heart full, her world right again. As they leaned in, forehead to forehead, the weight of months apart finally lifted. The city was safe, the war quiet for now — and in that small classroom, surrounded by the innocent traces of childhood, they found something even more powerful than victory: the simple, unbreakable comfort of coming home to love.