The clinking of silverware and the low hum of conversation filled the Grant household but Brooklyn Grant could feel the weight of the silence underneath it. Families who knew the rhythm of military life also knew how fragile moments like this were. Five days home from deployment and already the clock ticked too loudly in her head.
Her twelve-year-old daughter, Olivia, sat squeezed between her grandparents at the long wooden table. She was smiling politely at something her grandfather said, but Brooklyn knew that smile, tight, stretched and hiding frustration.
James, her husband, reached across and poured wine for Brooklyn's mother. He looked relaxed, his easy grin lighting up the room, but Brooklyn knew him too well. His hand lingered too long on the bottle. He was restless too.
"You know." Brooklyn's father said, raising his glass, "we almost forgot what it feels like to have both of you back here. Two heroes at the same dinner table, that doesn't happen every day."
James chuckled. "Heroes? Nah. We just follow orders."
"Don't sell yourself short." her father shot back. "Not everyone comes home."
The table fell quiet for a moment. The weight of that truth lingered. Brooklyn caught Olivia's eyes flicking downward, her fork idly pushing peas across her plate.
Brooklyn forced a smile and leaned in. "Liv, tell me about school. You promised me you'd give me the full download tonight."
Olivia's face lit up, just for a second. "Well… we had this science project and I built a model rocket with Ella. It flew higher than all the boys'!"
"That's my girl." James said, clapping softly. "A future pilot."
"Future engineer." Olivia corrected, grinning... then the grin faded almost as quickly. "But you won't even be here to see it."
The words landed heavier than gunfire. Everyone at the table froze.
"Olivia…" Brooklyn started, her voice soft, "I know it's hard. But five days home is still five more than a lot of families get."
Her daughter shook her head, blinking fast. "You were gone for three months, Mom. Three months! And now...what? You'll just… leave again soon."
"Olivia," her grandmother cut in gently, "your parents serve this country. You should be proud."
"I am proud." Olivia snapped, her voice cracking. "But I'm tired of sharing them with everybody else."
James reached over, his hand resting on Olivia's small one. "Hey pumpkin. We're here now."
Brooklyn opened her mouth to echo him... then her phone buzzed against the table. The vibration rattled louder than thunder in her ears.
Everyone's eyes darted to it.
Brooklyn didn't move at first. She stared at the screen lighting up. One word flashed: COMMAND.
Her stomach sank.
James saw it too. His jaw tightened. "Brook…"
She grabbed the phone and stood, walking into the kitchen. The table behind her hushed, though she could feel the questions swirling like smoke.
"This is Captain Grant." she answered, voice clipped, professional.
A cold voice came through the other end. "Captain, you and Major Grant are required for immediate redeployment. Report to base within two hours. Full squadron. Operation details classified."
Brooklyn's pulse hammered. "Sir, we just..."
"That's not a request, Captain. It's an order. Confirmation?"
Her hand balled into a fist. She glanced at the doorway where Olivia sat craning her neck to see her. "...Confirmed. Two hours."
The line went dead.
She returned to the dining room, phone clenched like a stone in her hand. James already knew, he was watching her with that heavy, unreadable look he reserved for when duty called.
Olivia saw it too, though. She didn't need words. "No." she whispered. "No, Mom, please. Not again."
Brooklyn knelt beside her chair, her hand brushing her daughter's cheek. "Liv, listen to me baby. Your dad and I... this is bigger than us,. We have to go."
Tears welled in Olivia's eyes. "Bigger than me, you mean?"
Brooklyn's chest ached. She wanted to promise her daughter she'd stay, that she'd quit everything, that she'd never leave her again. But promises like that didn't belong to people like her.
Her mother spoke up gently. "Olivia, sweetheart, you'll come back to Washington with us. They'll be back soon."
"You're not sure." Olivia muttered, pulling away from Brooklyn's touch.
James stood and walked around the table, crouching beside both of them. He kissed Olivia's forehead. "Hey, pumpkin. You know we always come back. Always."
"You can't promise that." Olivia said. Her voice was so quiet it nearly broke Brooklyn.
James looked at Brooklyn, then back to Olivia. "Maybe not. But we fight like hell trying. And that's what matters."
Silence hung over the table as the truth sank in. Brooklyn stood slowly, brushing her daughter's hair back. She bent down, kissed her forehead, then her hands. "I'll be back before you know it."
Olivia didn't answer. She simply hugged her tightly... too tightly like if she let go, Brooklyn might disappear right there at the dinner table.
Brooklyn hugged back just as fiercely. Then she pried herself away, stood tall and nodded to James.
"Time to go." he said, voice steady.
They gathered their things in quiet efficiency, military muscle memory taking over. At the door, Brooklyn turned one last time. Her daughter stood in the middle of the dining room, fists balled, chin trembling, eyes blazing with unshed tears.
That was the image Brooklyn carried with her as she and James stepped out into the night.