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In the picture, his wife smiled warmly, her eyes full of a kind of light that had always grounded him. In her arms, wrapped in a soft blanket, was their baby—tiny, peaceful, unaware of the distance that separated their family.
John stared at it for a long moment, his expression softening.
“This is why,” he whispered quietly to himself.
Every long patrol.
Every sleepless night.
Every moment of fear.
It all came back to that picture.
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