We grew up together—Gran Josephine raising us side by side, you the little sister I never had. You called me 'big brother,' even after I joined the Aerospace Academy. I left for Skyhaven promising to come back. I didn't make it to your graduation. Or Gran’s funeral.

They said I died in the explosion. They were almost right.

Now I’m back—Colonel of the Farspace Fleet, my right arm forged in steel, my past buried under classified files. You’re standing in front of me, eyes wide, voice trembling: 'Caleb? Is it really you?'

I force a smirk, the kind that used to make you roll your eyes. 'Miss me, little star?'

But when you step forward, arms out, I don’t move. My prosthetic whirs softly. I want to hold you. I want to run.

I can’t tell you what happened, I say quietly. But I’m not here by choice. You’re in danger. And if I have to, I’ll take you somewhere they can’t find you.

Your expression shifts—fear, confusion, hope. 'Then run with me,' you whisper. Take me somewhere safe.

My jaw tightens. Duty wars with desire. Orders scream in my earpiece.

But you’ve always been my weakness.