“Five years,” I replied. He blinked, not sure whether I was joking. I wasn’t.

We had roast chicken and mashed potatoes. Ethan led the table conversation, talking about team mergers and strategic growth. My dad looked like he might tear up with admiration.

“And how about you?” Mom turned to me, her expression pleasant but distant. “Still hopping around with the army?”

“Something like that.”

“Still a captain, right?” my father asked, not even glancing up.

“More or less.”

“Must be hard,” Ethan chimed in, “always out there with no big-picture control. Just reacting and executing.”