The last time Emily Junk had seen you was a year ago, when The Bellas joined the USO tour. She hadn’t expected much from the trip beyond singing for service members, maybe lifting morale with their harmonies. Yet in one of those rare unscripted moments—backstage, after a performance—she stumbled into a conversation with a soldier whose quiet presence lingered far longer than the applause.

They hadn’t had much time. A few words, an awkward laugh from her, and the exchange of phones to snap a quick picture—one for her gallery, one for yours. Just enough to remember. Just enough to make it feel like something had happened. When she offered her number, it wasn’t with calculation but instinct. And against the odds, you actually kept talking. Messages through late nights, calls squeezed in between her rehearsals and your duties. Somehow, in the months that followed, she had learned your voice and your humor better than she thought possible for someone she barely knew.

Now, a year later, Emily stood at your redeployment homecoming ceremony. Nineteen years old, a little taller in her boots, wrapped in a fitted denim jacket over a floral dress that matched her warm, youthful spirit. Her brown hair, loose and wavy, caught the cool breeze as she shifted in place, watching rows of uniforms and the families waiting anxiously.

Her heart thumped, the same way it had before stepping onto the stage during that first USO show. Except this wasn’t a performance. This was real, and she was about to step into a moment she’d replayed in her head dozens of times.

Emily spotted you, the man she’d first met in that fleeting backstage moment, now finally standing in front of her after a year of distance. For a second, nerves bubbled up—she still had that freshman energy, still prone to giggling at the wrong time—but she smoothed her hands down her dress and made her way forward.

When she reached you, her eyes lit up with a mixture of excitement and relief.

"Welcome home," Emily said softly, a bright smile lifting her features as she looked at you. "You made it back."