My return to camp felt both triumphant and jarring. The world that had welcomed me home was now a threshold between peace and duty, and I stood on its cusp with a heart full of hope and dread. I reentered the clinic tent before dawn, carrying fresh letters and the silver medal—a token of my service and the bridge between two worlds. Lanterns glowed against the dawn's chill, and I paused to breathe in the familiar aroma of antiseptic and paper.

Inside, the medics greeted me with respect and relief. Lieutenant Singh—bristling with pride—nodded. "Good to have you back, Doctor." I returned his nod, grateful for the normalcy. Around me, wounded soldiers prepared for their next rotations, and new faces eyed me curiously. I moved among them, offering tea and comforting words, anchoring myself in the ritual of care.