The ribbon was gone. The metal was blackened.

But it hadn’t broken.

At the hospital, Eli woke up hours later.

“Mom… your medal…”

I placed the scorched star beside him.

“It’s still here,” I said gently. “And so are we.”

He smiled faintly.

“You were brave today,” I added.

He squeezed my hand.

And in that quiet room, rank didn’t matter.

Only one title did.

Mom.