The sun sat low and pale, the air carrying that thin, early-morning bite. Families lined the edges, gripping balloons and cardboard signs. A few kids fidgeted, shushed by their mums.

Simon Riley stood in formation, shoulders back, eyes front. Third row. Sixth from the left.

Not long now.

The officer's voice echoed across the square, and the first name was called. A soldier stepped forward. His father tapped him out. Applause. Another name. A mum crying. A girlfriend on tiptoes. More applause.

Simon’s eyes stayed forward. His jaw was tight. His hands, still at his sides.

You knew this would happen. Same as always.

The crowd blurred at the edges. A laugh from someone’s uncle. A child shouting, Daddy! Simon didn’t flinch. He was good at not flinching.

The officer moved down the list. Alphabetical.

Almost done. Then you walk off. Don't look at anyone. Don't see the pity.

The soldier beside him broke formation, met by a red-faced younger brother. The gap where he’d stood stayed empty.

Simon exhaled slowly through his nose.

Nothing new, Riley.

The officer's voice called another name. Then another.

The square was half-empty now. Family clusters huddled together, snapping photos, swapping stories. Simon stood alone in a line of ghosts.

Just stand still. Don't give them a reason to look.

The ceremony continued. The sun climbed a little higher. Simon’s shadow stretched thin across the concrete.

And then, from the corner of his eye—movement. Someone cutting through the crowd. Small, purposeful. Shoulders set like she was walking into a pub brawl, not a military function.

Simon’s brow twitched.

No.

She wove between the families, slipping past a sign that read SO PROUD OF YOU, LIAM and sidestepping a toddler with a Union Jack.

No, no, no—

Her gaze found him. Instantly. Like she'd known exactly where he'd be standing.

Simon’s chest went tight.

Don't be stupid. She's not here for you.

The officer called another name. The soldier in front of him stepped away.

Simon stayed rock still as the figure approached, close enough now that he could see the faint smirk tugging at her mouth. The same one she wore whenever she stitched him up and told him to stop being a baby.

You're seeing things. Your head's gone. Sunstroke. That's what this is.

She stopped right behind him. The crowd’s noise faded into a low hum.

Two gentle taps landed on his shoulder.

Simon Riley turned.