Extra Chapter - Morning Light
On a typical autumn morning on the West Coast of the United States, sunlight filters through tall trees, casting dappled shadows on the frosty grass. Inside a secluded detached house, the aroma of coffee mingles with the soft sizzling of bacon.
Keegan, wearing a dark apron, stood in front of the stove. Her right hand deftly flipped the bacon and eggs in the pan, while her left hand gripped the handle. On her ring finger was a simple platinum ring with a subtle K and E lettering. Her hands worked in perfect harmony, controlling the heat with perfect precision.
Five years later, he returned to Marine Base, no longer a frontline sharpshooter, but one of the top instructors, passing on the skills honed in life-or-death situations to a new generation of "Ghost" prospective members. The job was still challenging, but at least he could go home most nights.
Five-year-old Elara sat on a high chair at the dining table, swinging her little legs, trying with an incredibly serious expression to pick out the blueberries from her cereal one by one and arrange them on the edge of her plate. She had inherited her mother's ebony hair and her father's grey-blue eyes, and even at such a young age, there was an undeniable stubbornness in her eyes.
"Dad, my little brother stole my spoon!" Elara suddenly looked up, her little face puffed up with anger, and "accused" the kitchen.
Two-year-old Liam was sitting in his high chair, clutching a cartoon spoon he had "confiscated" from his sister. His eyes, just like Keegan's, were wide open as he looked innocently at his father, making muffled "tap...tap..." sounds, completely unaware that he had "committed a crime."
Keegan turned around, his gaze sweeping over the "crime scene." He didn't speak immediately, but simply walked over, took another identical little rabbit spoon from the sterilizer, placed it in front of Elara, and said succinctly, "Use this first."
Then, he took out another little fox spoon, placed it in front of his son, and gently touched his little hand with his slightly oily fingers. His voice was deep but not stern: "Liam, give it back to your sister."
Liam looked at his father, blinked as if he was thinking seriously, then obediently and slowly handed the spoon back to Elara, and then picked up the little fox spoon in front of him and started playing with it.
Keegan gently ruffled his hair. Just then, Elaine descended the stairs, dressed in comfortable loungewear, her long hair loosely tied up, her face radiating the languid tranquility of early morning. A delicate silver chain hung around her neck, its end tucked deep into her collar, its rectangular shape silhouetted against the soft fabric. She had just finished a morning video conference with colleagues at a European NPO, providing online guidance for a children's psychological support project in a post-war region.
"Good morning, my warriors." She approached with a smile, first bending down to kiss her daughter's cheek, then gently stroking her son's soft hair with her hand adorned with a matching wedding ring, and finally, walking to Keegan's side, naturally taking the spatula from his hand, her fingertips lightly touching the back of his hand.
Keegan nodded very slightly, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment—a look of concern mixed with a quiet satisfaction. "The coffee's ready," he said softly, turning to pour it. Breakfast proceeded in an orderly, slightly chaotic manner.
Elara earnestly reported on the "family portrait" she drew last night (Dad was drawn the largest, Mom was holding a "computer", and her younger brother was a small dot), while Liam was busy smearing yogurt all over his face and plate.
Elaine listened patiently, occasionally correcting her daughter's pronunciation while skillfully wiping her son's face. Keegan was mostly silent, but would occasionally push cut fruit towards her daughter, or give her son a look when he tried to climb out of his high chair and made him sit back down obediently.
Just as the sunlight flooded the restaurant, the doorbell rang. It was the community school bus that took Elara to kindergarten. Keegan picked up her daughter's backpack and water bottle, while Elaine helped Elara put on her coat.
At the doorway, Elara turned around, opened her arms, and asked for a standard "dad hug"—Keegan would kneel down on one knee, his strong, reliable arms embracing his daughter completely, and then lift her high into the air with both hands—a ritual between father and daughter. Elara would cheer happily at the highest point.
"Goodbye, Daddy. Goodbye, Mommy." Elara waved her little hand and skipped onto the school bus.
After seeing his daughter off, the house became much quieter. Liam began to concentrate on stacking blocks on the playmat. Elaine, holding a cup of coffee, leaned against the kitchen counter, watching Keegan clear the table. His movements were as efficient and methodical as ever.
“I’m going to the base this afternoon for a new tactical unit evaluation,” he said calmly as he washed the dishes.
“Yes, I have an online supervisory meeting at three o’clock, which will last about an hour,” Elaine replied, taking a sip of her coffee. “What do you want to eat tonight? Maybe we can try the stew you mentioned last time, and also some braised pork ribs from my hometown.”
Keegan turned off the tap, dried his hands, and turned to face her. Sunlight streamed through the window, outlining the contours of his profile; the lines once etched with the marks of life seemed softened by the warmth of home. "Okay," he replied, his gaze falling on her, where a sense of peace and deep affection, refined by the trials of life, settled in the smallest details of everyday existence.
Liam wobbled over, hugged Keegan's leg, and looked up at him with longing in his eyes. Keegan bent down and easily picked up his son, letting him sit in his arms. Liam rested his head contentedly on his strong shoulder.
There were no gunshots, no encrypted communications, no life-or-death missions. Only the aroma of coffee, the warmth of the sun, the babbling of children, and the everyday discussions about what to have for dinner. This was the other shore they had finally reached after traversing countless battles and experiencing life-or-death situations.
Calm, mundane, yet profoundly weighty. Keegan, holding his son and embracing his wife, stood side by side in the morning light. For them, each of these ordinary days was the most touching reward after the end of that long war.
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