“Yes.”
Her face changed.
“Madison.”
“I know.”
“That’s not normal.”
“I know.”
She sat across from me.
“Are you scared?”
I considered lying.
Then I remembered my mother.
Strength is decision.
“Yes,” I said.
Alicia nodded once.
“Good. Fear means your brain still works.”
That made me smile faintly.
A knock sounded at the door.
We both looked up.
It came again.
Three precise knocks.
Alicia opened it.
A messenger stood outside.
“Parker. You’re requested downstairs.”
My body went still.
“By whom?”
“Your parents.”
For one moment, I forgot how to breathe.
Then I stood.
Alicia stepped aside.
“I’ll be here,” she said.
I nodded and followed the messenger down.
The reception area near the entrance was mostly empty.
But my parents stood near the far wall.
My father looked older than he had two months ago. Or perhaps I was only seeing him differently. Broad-shouldered, close-cropped hair gone silver at the temples, eyes that had seen too much and stored most of it behind silence.
My mother stood beside him in civilian clothes, posture perfect, expression unreadable.
I stopped several feet away.
For the first time since Induction Day, I felt like someone’s daughter instead of a midshipman.
My mother crossed the distance first.
She hugged me hard.
Not long.
Not dramatic.
But hard enough to tell me everything she would not say in public.
My father waited until she released me.
Then he placed a hand on my shoulder.
“You okay, kid?”
I nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
His mouth twitched.
“Don’t ‘sir’ me right now.”
That almost broke me.
Almost.
“I’m okay, Dad.”
He studied my face.
“You sure?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Better answer.”
My mother looked toward an empty side room.
