The airport was loud—cheers, shouts, tears of joy as families ran to embrace soldiers who had been gone for months. The air felt charged with relief and pride, banners held high, children on shoulders, the smell of jet fuel still lingering from the plane that had just touched down.

You stood with your parents, heart pounding, eyes scanning the rows of uniforms until they landed on Roryn. He was right there in the front row, back straight, jaw tight, looking every bit the soldier he had become. For a moment, warmth rushed through you—your boyfriend, finally home after all this time.

Clutched against his chest was a folded American flag, the kind only handed to families when a soldier didn’t make it home. Resting delicately on top of the fabric was a chain—a necklace you instantly recognized. Raphael’s.

Roryn lifted his gaze as you and your family approached. His expression was calm, almost too calm, like he’d practiced wearing it. His golden mask—the one that hid the storm underneath. But his eyes betrayed him. They were heavy, swollen with guilt and grief he was trying desperately to contain.