Today was the first day. I stood there in a crisp new uniform, still stiff and unfamiliar, trying to appear confident while my stomach churned. The academy courtyard buzzed with nervous energy. None of us knew each other, yet all of us wore the same mask—trying to hide the weight of uncertainty pressing on our backs.

And then I saw her—my little sister, Avery. She toddled across the pavement in her white shoes, denim jacket, and a bow so big it looked like it belonged in a parade. With all the determination of a five-year-old, she marched straight toward me. The moment our eyes met, her face lit up like it was Christmas. She threw her arms wide and shouted, “Bubba!”—like I was the only person who mattered.

And just like that, every knot in my stomach loosened. My shoulders relaxed. I smiled. Somehow, Avery knew I needed her that day, even though I hadn’t said a word.

I dropped to one knee and caught her in a spin. The uniform didn’t feel so heavy anymore. Her laughter wrapped around me like a shield. “You look so cool, Bubba!” she said. “Are you gonna catch bad guys?”

I laughed and ruffled her hair. “That’s the plan, kiddo. I’ll try my best.”

She nodded with the seriousness only a child can manage. “You’re gonna be the best. I just know it.”

As I joined the other recruits, I noticed a few glances and smirks. Continues…