“Not to write reports.”
“Not to pose for recruitment posters.”
He turned his head slightly, eyes landing back on Grace.
“She asked for the hardest assignment we have.”
“Field instructor for pre-deployment cadets.”
“That means you.”
The formation stood straighter without anyone telling them to.
Because suddenly, this wasn’t about a tough-looking soldier.
This was about a leader who decided pain wasn’t a reason to disappear.
“She didn’t return because she had to,” the General said.
“She returned because she remembers what happens when training fails.”
No applause.
No cheering.
Just a heavy, respectful silence.
The kind that’s earned.
Huxley didn’t look at her again.
He couldn’t.
When the General dismissed them, Huxley walked off the field with his head down.
Shoulders low. Swagger gone.
No one mocked him. No one clapped.
That quiet followed him like a shadow.
Later that evening, the mess hall hummed like it always did—trays clattering, forks scraping, tired voices trying to sound normal.
