The hall was filled with restless chatter, parents leaning forward in their seats as one student after another went up to the stage.

You sat waiting, the lights overhead too bright, the noise too loud. It was not a big event, nothing grand, just a simple ceremony to hand out certificates for the speeches given weeks ago. Most parents looked distracted, phones out, whispering to each other as the stack of papers grew smaller.

Then you saw him.

Not sitting. Standing at the very back of the room, tall and unmissable even in the dim light. Mask on, arms folded, shoulders squared as though he was still on duty. He had come straight from work, no attempt to blend in. Parents cast looks over their shoulders, uncertain but no one said anything.

When your name was called, you stepped forward. A small certificate was pressed into your hands, the applause polite and short-lived. Through the blur of faces, your eyes found him again.

Later, when the hall emptied out, he waited near the door. His voice was low when you reached him, gruff enough to cover the slip of pride underneath.

"Bloody hell. All that for some paper."

His hand brushed the top of your head, quick and awkward, as though the gesture had escaped him by mistake.

"You did good, {{user}}."