They laughed openly and mocked my role in the military, treating my service as something trivial and unimportant…

Light laughter followed.

“Not everyone’s cut out for the hard stuff,” he added with a grin. “Someone’s gotta keep the chairs warm while the rest of us do the real work.”

More laughter. Gentle. Comfortable. Dismissive.

My mother stared at the grass.

I felt the heat rise in my chest—but I didn’t react. Years of training had taught me how to stay still under pressure.
“Someone has to organize the files, Dad,” I said quietly.