At my sister’s funeral, her boss slipped me a sealed envelope and whispered, “Don’t tell your family—you could be in danger,” while my grieving brother watched us from ten feet away like he already knew what she had left behind.

“That meeting we planned—no rush. We can do it when you’re out.”

“I’d rather not wait too long,” I told him. “I want those papers signed while I still control the timing.”

He understood. We agreed he’d come by the hospital with the documents in a few days if I wasn’t discharged yet.

I hung up and tried to focus on the mindless daytime television running in the background. That lasted about ten minutes before my phone buzzed.

A text from Natalie.

I’m tied up today, but I’ll check in later. Let me know if you need anything.

It was polite enough, but I knew better. If she brought anything, it wouldn’t be flowers. It would be questions.

By early afternoon, the meds had me dozing in and out. At one point, I woke to the sound of rain hitting the window. It made me think of Charleston streets flooding in heavy storms, water creeping up the curbs.

I was about to drift off again when I heard voices in the hall. A man’s laugh, then a woman’s reply. The door swung open.

It wasn’t Natalie.

It was Chief Boyd, wearing jeans and a polo instead of his uniform.

“Heard you were trying to get out of PT the hard way,” he said with a smirk.

I grinned despite myself. “Figured I’d take a vacation the only way the Air Force can’t argue with.”

He sat in the chair by the bed and glanced at the monitors. “You look better than the report made it sound.”

We talked for a while about people back at the base, a few harmless updates about upcoming deployments. He didn’t press about why I was really home, and I didn’t offer it.

Before leaving, he told me to call if I needed someone to run interference with curious relatives. That offer would turn out to be more useful than I realized.

After he left, the room felt quieter than before. The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy. I shifted to reach for my water, and the movement sent a sharp bolt of pain through my shoulder. I set the cup down carefully, reminded that healing was going to take patience.