Lucy Chen is in the army, mirroring Tim Bradford's experience

Facing the world

Lucy stood outside the hospital doors, the crisp morning air filling her lungs, but instead of feeling free, she felt exposed. The sun, warm and bright, seemed to highlight everything she was trying to hide—the anxiety twisting her stomach, the uncertainty clouding her mind. Her discharge had been quick, with doctors reminding her to take it easy and attend follow-up appointments, but no one could prepare her for this moment.

The world outside the hospital felt vast, overwhelming. For weeks, her universe had been reduced to a sterile room and the occasional visit from her friends. Now, stepping back into the real world felt like stepping onto an alien planet. Everything moved too fast—cars zooming by, people talking, laughing, living their lives as if the horrors she'd faced had never existed. It made her feel small, insignificant, and, worst of all, alone.

Tim stood beside her, quiet but present, his usual stoic demeanor softening as he watched her. He didn't push her to move, didn't say a word. He just waited, giving her the space to gather herself.

"Ready?" Tim finally asked, his voice low and calm, though he wasn't asking her to rush.

Lucy glanced at him, taking comfort in his steady presence. She gave a small nod, even though the truth was she didn't know if she'd ever be ready. But the hospital was no longer a place she could hide, and standing here forever wasn't an option either.

They walked to his car in silence. Lucy kept her gaze focused on the pavement, avoiding eye contact with the people milling around the entrance. It felt like everyone was watching her, judging her. Her heart pounded, and her chest tightened with each step.

When they finally reached the car, Tim opened the door for her, and she slid into the passenger seat. The familiar scent of leather and the faint smell of Tim's cologne grounded her for a moment. She stared out the window as he got into the driver's seat, her mind racing as she tried to prepare herself for what came next.

Home.

It wasn't her real home—not yet—but Tim had insisted she stay with him for a while. He didn't say it outright, but she knew why. He didn't trust her to be alone, didn't think she was ready to face the isolation of her apartment. And maybe he was right.

The drive was quiet, the hum of the engine and the occasional soft rock song playing from the radio filling the silence. Lucy's hands fidgeted in her lap, her fingers brushing against the faded hospital band still around her wrist. She hadn't taken it off yet, even though she had been discharged hours ago. Maybe it was because a part of her still felt like she was supposed to be there—trapped, healing, waiting.

As they turned onto Tim's street, Lucy's anxiety spiked again. Being with Tim was safe, but it also meant facing the people who cared about her—Angela, Nyla, Tamara. She wasn't ready to see them. Not yet. She didn't want their pity or their concern. She didn't want to see the worry in their eyes, or worse, the subtle changes in the way they treated her now. She wasn't the same Lucy they knew. Would they still want to be around her?

Tim pulled into the driveway, cutting the engine. For a moment, neither of them moved. Lucy stared at the house, a lump forming in her throat. She had been here countless times before, but now it felt different. The safety of Tim's home had become a reminder that she couldn't return to her own.

"Take your time," Tim said, sensing her hesitation. His voice was soft, his tone devoid of the usual sharpness it carried at work. It was the voice of a friend, not a superior.

Lucy took a deep breath and nodded. She reached for the door handle, her fingers trembling slightly as she stepped out of the car. The cool air hit her again, and for a moment, she just stood there, staring at the front door.

The door opened before she could take another step, and Angela appeared in the doorway, her face breaking into a relieved smile when she saw Lucy.

"You made it," Angela said softly, stepping onto the porch. Her eyes scanned Lucy's face, concern and relief mixing in her expression. She wasn't pushing, wasn't demanding an emotional reunion. She just waited.

Lucy forced a smile, though it felt more like a grimace. "Yeah, I'm here."

Angela came down the steps, giving her a quick, gentle hug, careful not to overwhelm her. "It's good to see you out of the hospital," she said. "We missed you."

Lucy nodded but didn't say anything. Her throat was tight, and the words she wanted to say felt lodged somewhere deep inside her. She had missed them too, in a way. But being around them now—knowing how much they had seen her struggle—was harder than she expected.

Tim gave Angela a slight nod as he passed her, heading inside with Lucy's bags. Angela lingered for a moment, her gaze soft but understanding. She didn't push for a conversation, didn't pry, which Lucy appreciated more than she could express.

"I'll be inside if you need anything," Angela said quietly before heading back into the house.

Lucy took a deep breath and followed, her feet feeling like they were weighed down by lead. Stepping into the house felt surreal. Everything looked the same—clean, organized, familiar. Yet Lucy felt completely out of place, like she was intruding on a life that wasn't hers.

Tim had set her bags down in the guest room, and Lucy wandered in, feeling the weight of the day press down on her. The bed was neatly made, fresh sheets pulled tight, and a small bouquet of flowers sat on the nightstand. It was a thoughtful gesture, but it only made Lucy feel more like a burden. Tim was doing everything to make her comfortable, but she still felt like she didn't belong.

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her hands resting in her lap as she stared at the floor. The house was quiet, but not the oppressive silence of the hospital. This was different. It was the kind of quiet that offered solace, but Lucy couldn't embrace it.

There was a knock on the doorframe, and Lucy looked up to see Tim leaning against the wall. His face was calm, but his eyes held that familiar look of concern.

"Everything okay?" he asked, his voice low.

Lucy nodded, though she wasn't sure if it was true. "Yeah," she said quietly. "Just... adjusting."

Tim studied her for a moment before nodding. He pushed off the wall and walked over to sit beside her on the bed. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. The silence was thick, but it wasn't uncomfortable.

"You don't have to do this alone, you know," Tim said finally, breaking the quiet. "We're all here for you."

Lucy nodded, her throat tightening. She knew they were there. She knew they cared. But no matter how many people surrounded her, this battle was one she had to fight on her own.

"I know," she whispered. "It's just... hard."

Tim's hand rested on her shoulder, a small but steady reminder that he wasn't going anywhere. "It's supposed to be," he said softly. "But you'll get through it."

Lucy swallowed hard, her chest tightening as the weight of her emotions pressed down on her. She wanted to believe him, wanted to believe that she would get through this. But the truth was, she wasn't sure.

"I'm scared," she admitted, her voice barely a whisper. The words felt raw, vulnerable, but she couldn't hold them back any longer.

Tim's hand remained on her shoulder, his grip gentle but firm. "That's okay," he said quietly. "You don't have to be strong all the time."

Lucy closed her eyes, letting his words sink in. She didn't have to be strong. She didn't have to have all the answers right now. Maybe, just maybe, it was okay to take this one step at a time.

She opened her eyes and looked at Tim, her chest still tight but her breathing a little easier. "Thanks, Tim," she said, her voice soft but sincere.

Tim gave her a small nod, his expression serious but warm. "Anytime, Chen."

They sat there in silence for a while longer, neither of them needing to say anything more. The weight of the world was still heavy on Lucy's shoulders, but for the first time, she felt like maybe—just maybe—she didn't have to carry it alone.