The Wound That Led Me to Bliss

The rehearsal for the commendation ceremony was underway; the lights were blindingly bright. The moment I stepped through the auditorium doors, my eyes locked onto the figure at the security checkpoint. It was Jennifer George. Five years have passed, yet she remains the same. The crisp special forces uniform made her shoulders appear even straighter, her short hair neatly tucked behind her ears, and her eyes and brows still bore the sharpness unique to a soldier. The security inspector clearly recognized her, a warm and enthusiastic smile brightening his face. "Captain George, long time no see! Still as formidable as ever!" Jennifer George nodded, but her gaze passed over the crowd, settling precisely on me. I was looking down, fumbling for my ID, when the security inspector glanced at my pass and furrowed his brow slightly. "Sir, please allow me to verify your credentials." Jennifer George stepped forward, her tone natural: "He is with me and related to the mission." I lifted my eyes and met her gaze. Within it were complicated emotions, as if veiled by a layer of mist. "No need." I spoke, my voice calmer than expected, "I have my own pass." As I said this, I took the pass from my pocket, my fingertips brushing the cool plastic cover. Jennifer George's eyes rested on the document; her eyelashes trembled slightly. The security inspector took the pass, carefully examined it, and after confirming everything was in order, allowed me through. I withdrew the pass and prepared to walk inside. "Reed Deer." Jennifer George called after me. I halted, but did not turn around. "Are you still blaming me?" Her voice was soft, laced with a faint, barely perceptible note of probing. A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, but I remained silent. At the front of the Auditorium, the award recipients lined up for rehearsal, their footsteps precise and synchronized. All my thoughts were focused there. The past had long since faded like a worn, discolored photograph—not worth digging up again.