China’s tactical withdrawal fooled no one. The lull in hostilities was a deception—a feint meant to lull the allies into complacency. But the coalition had learned their lessons from history well. They did not mistake silence for peace.

  While the world watched and speculated, the allies moved with quiet urgency, finalizing the last phases of their decade-old defence plans. Every war game, every logistical exercise, every strategic investment over the last fourteen years had led to this very moment. Now, the final pieces of the Pacific Fortress were falling into place.

  At the heart of this defensive network lay the Pacific Ocean Sound Surveillance System—an impenetrable acoustic barrier spanning the critical maritime approaches of the Indo-Pacific. More than just an early-warning system, this vast web of listening posts turned the region’s deep waters into a potential kill zone for any hostile submarine or surface fleet.

  A joint venture between Australia and New Zealand, with backing from key Pacific nations, the system had evolved from a strategic initiative into an absolute priority. Twelve years in the making, it had been painstakingly constructed in the utmost of secrecy—node by node, cable by cable—until it blanketed the ocean floor.

  With the Solomon Islands secured, the final deep-sea sensors were meticulously deployed. The HMNZS Fox and HMNZS Franz Josef, New Zealand’s Glacier-class dive tenders and submarine rescue ships, played a crucial role in completing the network. Each vessel carried purpose-built roll-on/roll-off (RO/RO) sensor sleds, engineered for rapid deployment, retrieval and maintenance of the deep-sea surveillance equipment.

  The SOSUS network was divided into five overlapping arcs, forming a multi-layered defence grid:

  The Western Arc – Guarding Australia's western approaches, spanning the Indian Ocean, Timor Sea, and the western coastline.

  The Northwestern Arc – Defending against incursions from the South China Sea and Indonesian approaches.

  The Northeastern Arc – The Western Pacific Shield, stretching from Papua New Guinea to the Solomon Islands.

  The Eastern Arc – Protecting New Zealand and the South Pacific, extending from the Solomon Islands to Fiji, Tonga, the Kermadec Trench, and the Campbell Plateau.

  The Southern Arc – A vast sub-Antarctic barrier, extending from New Zealand’s southern waters across the Auckland Islands, the Tasman Sea, and the Great Australian Bight, linking with the Western Arc in the Indian Ocean.

  Each of these zones served one purpose—to detect and track any hostile naval movement before it could threaten allied interests.

  Control of the seas was only part of the equation. Defending key infrastructure, military installations, and population centres was equally critical. The allies had spent the past decade building a continent-spanning surveillance and missile defence network, integrating over-the-horizon radar, space-based reconnaissance, and cutting-edge missile interception systems.

  Australia’s Jindalee Operational Radar Network or JORN as it was known locally, already a formidable asset, had been expanded with installations in Whangārei, Wellington, Christchurch, and Fiji was just coming online. This provided 360° coverage of the Pacific, Southern Ocean, and South China Sea. Integrated into the Five Eyes intelligence network, JORN’s range and precision were further amplified through quiet collaboration with Japan, South Korea, and Taiwan, creating a regional intelligence nexus.

  Meanwhile, New Zealand’s Rocket Lab, in partnership with Boeing and RTX, had been launching a constellation of solar powered microsatellites, designed to monitor missile launches, track naval movements, and provide real-time battlefield intelligence. These assets meshed seamlessly with existing Australian, American, and Japanese space networks, ensuring unparalleled situational awareness across the Pacific.

  Fortress Suva, and New Zealand’s Pacific Stronghold. After a decade of strategic investment in Pacific infrastructure, New Zealand formalized a historic basing agreement with Fiji, establishing a permanent naval presence in Suva Harbour to supplement Fiji’s small navy. Unlike previous arrangements from other state actors, cloaked in diplomatic nuance, this deal was transparent and explicit—the military applications were part of the plan from the beginning.

  Fleet Base Pacific, as the New Zealanders called it, now complete hosted a formidable flotilla, two Province-class Aegis destroyers – Canterbury and Otago. Two Capital-class Aegis frigates – Hamilton and Greymouth. Two Mako-class attack submarines – Kakere and Taniwha. The Patrol ships – Monowai and Pukaki. The Replenishment ship – Toroa and the Dive tender and Submarine rescue ship – Fox.

  In addition to the naval presence, the RNZAF established a permanent aviation detachment at Suva-Nausori Airport, deploying full squadrons of F-15 fighters, P-8 Poseidon maritime patrol aircraft, E-7 Wedgetail AEW&C platforms, and aerial refuelling tankers. The NZ Army also sent units to embed within Fiji’s own military, further bolstering their strength and acting as advisors and trainers. Ground-based surface-to-air and anti-ship missile batteries further strengthened the defensive perimeter.

  Far from mere military expansion, this investment brought significant economic growth and security to the region. The Pacific Islands, previously unable to afford such measures, and long left vulnerable to external pressures, now had their sovereignty backed by hard power. Power that helped, not hindered.

  With the British Ark Royal Task Group patrolling the Timor Sea and the strait of Malacca, the Australian Melbourne Task Group guarding the Arafura Sea, and the New Zealand Tangaroa Task Group securing the Coral Sea, vast stretches of the Indo-Pacific were now under continuous surveillance.

  Supported by elements of the US 3rd Fleet north of the Solomon Islands, and an ever-expanding fleet of RAAF and RNZAF surveillance aircraft—both manned and unmanned—operating from Australia’s Northern Territories, Fiji and New Zealand, the world’s southern oceans were now under the watchful eyes of the allied forces.

  Surveillance was only part of the solution. It was all well and good knowing that a threat was coming, but you also had to have something to deal with it when it got there. Consequently, to bolster the home defences, a network of Aegis Ashore Installations, also over a decade in the making, were hurriedly completed. Equipped with SM-3 Block IIA and SM-6 interceptors, they safeguarded major cities and critical infrastructure across Australia, New Zealand, Fiji, and other smaller islands.

  Strategically placed Terminal High Altitude Area Defence batteries in Australia’s Northern Territory, Western Australia, Queensland, and both of New Zealand’s main islands provided an additional layer of protection against ballistic missile threats. And Along the coastlines, not unlike the old naval artillery installations of the second world war era, land-based Long-Range Anti-Ship Missile batteries ensured that any hostile naval force approaching allied shores would not live long enough to regret it.

  The United States was not idle either. Long-range B-52 bombers, additional fighter wings, and expanded patrol aircraft squadrons were redeployed to New Zealand and Australia, bolstering forward operating bases in Guam, Japan, and the Philippines. The US Marine Rotational Force-Darwin was reinforced, while additional American carrier strike groups patrolled the Northern Pacific.

  The Pacific Fortress was as complete as they could make it. Neither New Zealand nor Australia had a large military, or the capability to make one, but where they lacked in manpower, they more than made up for with automation and considerable long term planning. The quiet months had not been idle—they had been a race against time. Every kilometre of ocean, every stretch of coastline, every patch of sky had been woven into an intricate web of surveillance, detection, and rapid response.

  Once, Australia and New Zealand had been seen as isolated islands in the vast Pacific. Now, they were a fortress—armed, vigilant, and prepared. China’s withdrawal had never been a concession of peace. It was a recalibration. A moment to breathe, regroup, and reassess. The allies knew this. And when the storm inevitably came, they would be ready.

  ***

  The wardroom aboard Tangaroa was packed with brass, the air thick with the scent of strong coffee and the unspoken weight of what was about to unfold. Vice Admiral Malachi Mason sat at the head of the long mahogany table, his dark blue ‘at sea’ uniform crisp despite the fatigue in his eyes. He knew this was going to be a delicate balancing act.

  Around the table sat the key flag officers of the newly formed Joint Southern Pacific Military Command: Rear Admirals Thomas Sangstrom – Commander, USS Abraham Lincoln Carrier Strike Group, William Raines – Commander, USS Carl Vinson Carrier Strike Group, Samantha Garrett – Commander, USS Enterprise Carrier Strike Group, Sir Andrew Pembroke (via secure teleconference) – Commander, HMS Ark Royal Carrier Strike Group, James Harrington (via secure teleconference) – Commander, HMAS Melbourne Carrier Strike Group, Commodore Caroline Troughton – Commander, Canadian Destroyer Squadron and Major General Lachie Patterson – Commander, of ANZAC Ground Forces Pacific.

  The Americans had flown in via CMV-22B Ospreys, an unusual sight to see so many on Tangaroa, and the room carried a faint tension—respectful but laced with concern. Mason wasn’t surprised. Being placed in command of multiple US carrier strike groups wasn’t something that happened every day, let alone to a Kiwi admiral.

  He decided to start simple.

  “Before we begin,” Mason said, looking around at the gathered officers, “would anyone like refreshments?”

  A few of the officers exchanged glances, perhaps taken aback by the casual tone. Admiral Sangstrom smirked, shaking his head slightly. “That’s a very Kiwi way to start a high-level strategy meeting,” he remarked.

  Mason grinned. “Ah, you’ve served with us before then?”

  “I had the pleasure of dining once with Te Mana’s captain when I was Abe’s Captain a while back, she was one of our escorts in the gulf. Paul something, I don’t remember his name, good man though, and a good ship. A real credit to your navy.”

  “Thank you Admiral. I appreciate that, but we’ve come a long way since those days.”

  “Yes, you have” Sangstrom said, the two men smiling at each other as they took their seats, the ice broken.

  “Well,” Mason stated, “we’re all going to be working together for a while. Might as well start civil.”

  A steward, standing off to the side, quickly took orders—mostly coffee, strong and black.

  As the drinks arrived, and a large plate of chocolate biscuits, from a mysteriously located Griffins sampler pack, was placed in the middle of the table, Mason leaned forward, wrapping his hands around the mug in front of him. “Alright, ladies and gentlemen. Let’s crack on, shall we? I’m not going to waste your time with bullshit formalities—we all know why we’re here. We’re right smack bang in a brand new cold war and the Pacific is heating up at a great rate of knots. The P-R-C aren’t playing around anymore, and with the ANZUS Treaty fully reactivated, we’re in a new era of strategic cooperation.”

  He let that settle before continuing. “I also know that this command structure wasn’t exactly what some of you were expecting.” His eyes flicked to Sangstrom, Raines, and Garrett. “Let’s get it out in the open—what are your concerns? Speak freely.”

  Rear Admiral Raines, a veteran of multiple Pacific deployments, cleared his throat. “I’ll be honest, sir…”

  “Like I said, I’m not much for formalities, I mean we’re all admirals here, except for our green brother over there, but he’s the same level as the rest of us. I go by Mal, or if you prefer you can call me Malachi.”

  “Very well, I go by Bill mostly, Look, it’s not about you personally Malachi. It’s about… precedent. The US Navy doesn’t normally place our carriers under foreign command.”

  Garrett, the Enterprise CSG commander, nodded. “It’s a hell of a shift. And, respectfully, Malachi, our government made this decision without much consultation on our end. That’s bound to raise some eyebrows back home.”

  Mason nodded, expecting as much. “Those are very fair points. I’ll be honest, I never expected this either, but here we are.” He glanced around the table, taking in the expressions. Some guarded, some hesitant. “I want to start how we mean to finish here though, so let me be absolutely one hundred percent crystal clear—I’m not here to dictate operations unilaterally. This is a coalition, not a dictatorship. Every major decision will involve input from all of you. The chain of command is unified, but this isn’t about nationality—it’s about capability. And I’d bet my ass that every man and woman at this table wants the same thing: a free and stable Indo-Pacific.”

  There was a pause. Then Pembroke, the British admiral, spoke from the secure line. “You’ll find no objections from me, Malachi. The Royal Navy has no qualms working under New Zealand command. Frankly, I’d rather answer to someone who actually understands the South Pacific than a desk officer in Washington or Whitehall.”

  Harrington, the Australian, chuckled. “Well, I’m certainly not going to argue with my own country’s decision, either. Frankly, if it were up to me, we’d have made this move years ago. The Yanks might be the biggest player in the room, but it’s the Aussies and the Kiwis who are the ones with our backs against the wall.”

  Sangstrom exhaled, exchanging glances with his fellow Americans. Then he leaned forward. “Alright, Mal. I don’t like surprises, but I respect competence and straight talkers. You’re in the chair now, so let’s talk brass tacks. How do you see this command structure playing out?”

  Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  Mason hid a small smirk. The hardest part—getting them to listen—was over. Now came the real work.

  “I’m very glad you asked. Here’s the operational breakdown as I would like to see it. Carriers are no good on their own, redundancy is safety and with the Chinese breathing down our necks, safety is what I want for all of us. So to that end, I want the Enterprise to join with us here, providing us with additional carrier support in the region. Meanwhile, the Abraham Lincoln and Carl Vinson groups will maintain a patrol posture north of the Solomon Islands, ensuring coverage against potential incursions or hostile movements. And I want Ark Royal and Melbourne to join up out west. Together we are stronger.”

  He paused, letting the weight of the statement settle. “I want to emphasize that this joint command is here to ensure coalition cohesion and cooperation. Every nation represented here remains in command of its own people. My role isn’t to override your decisions but to ensure we are moving in the same direction, sharing intelligence, and acting as a unified force.”

  Commodore Troughton nodded. “This structure makes sense. The Canadians have always operated seamlessly in multinational coalitions, and this is no different. We’re here to contribute, not to add bureaucracy.”

  Major General Patterson leaned back in his chair. “From a ground forces perspective, I appreciate this clarity. My boys on Guadalcanal are in constant coordination with your naval operations, and the last thing we need is confusion over who’s in charge of what. If this command keeps things running smoothly, I’m all for it.”

  Mason inclined his head. “That’s the goal, Lachie. No surprises, no conflicts in mission execution. Just clear, efficient coordination.”

  He took a sip of his coffee before continuing. “Now, let’s talk about operational specifics….”

  And with that, the meeting truly began.

  ***

  The bridge of Tangaroa hummed with controlled energy, a symphony of quiet efficiency. The rhythmic exchange of orders, repeated and confirmed with precision, filled the space. Consoles chirped and systems beeped in steady cadence, a backdrop to the tension that still lingered in the air.

  Vice Admiral Malachi Mason stepped onto the bridge, his expression thoughtful as he watched the last of the flag officers depart. The weight of the meeting still clung to him, but beneath it, there was a glimmer of satisfaction. It had gone better than expected.

  Captain Scott Hutchinson, standing near the central console, turned as Mason approached. "Well, how did that go?" he asked, his voice carrying an undercurrent of curiosity.

  Mason exhaled, rubbing a hand along his jaw. "Surprisingly well, I think. The Enterprise will be joining us shortly."

  Hutchinson nearly choked on his own breath, spinning around to face the admiral. "Seriously?" His eyes were wide with disbelief. "That’s really cool!"

  Mason chuckled, shaking his head at the captain’s unfiltered enthusiasm. "Yeah, it is. But more than that, it's a game-changer. With Enterprise here, we’re not just another task force—we’re the centrepiece of the Southern Pacific theatre."

  Hutchinson folded his arms, the reality sinking in. "And the other two American groups? Abraham Lincoln and Carl Vinson?"

  "They'll be patrolling north of the Solomons, keeping a buffer between us and any Chinese naval activity. That keeps the pressure up while allowing us to focus on regional stability." Mason turned his gaze toward the tactical display. "Our primary mission is coalition cohesion and coordination, not taking over anyone’s forces. That was the main sticking point for the Americans."

  "And did they buy it?" Hutchinson asked, arching an eyebrow.

  Mason smirked. "Mostly. Raines and Garrett weren’t thrilled at first, but they came around. Sangstrom's pragmatic, he’s worked with us before apparently, so I think there’s some mutual respect there—he’ll toe the line as long as we prove ourselves competent. The Canadians, Brits and Aussies were already on board."

  As if on cue, the bridge communications officer looked up from his console. "Sir, message from Commodore Troughton she’s back aboard Mackensie and requesting permission to officially join the group—says she’s looking forward to testing cross-unit integration with our systems."

  Hutchinson let out a low whistle. "The Americans playing nice with the Kiwis and Aussies and now being joined by the Canadians. That’s really something."

  Mason nodded. "No doubt, we’re truly multi-national now, and it gives us two more destroyers and another oiler plus, they see the value in a unified front. So does Lachie Patterson. He knows his boys on Guadalcanal are the ones who’ll feel the brunt if things go sideways. Besides, don’t you study history, the Canadians have an insane record as escorts, honestly, I feel safer already!"

  "Very Funny Mal, but what about the the Chinese?" Hutchinson asked, his voice dropping slightly.

  Mason crossed his arms. "They’re out there watching. They’ll probe us, test our responses. But they’re not the only ones adjusting to this new reality. The Americans are getting used to the idea of a non-US officer at the helm. If we show them we can pull this off, it’ll set a precedent. The world is changing my friend, let’s all hope that we can keep up!"

  Hutchinson exhaled, shaking his head with a wry grin. "So no pressure, then?"

  Mason chuckled. "Nope, none at all. Now, let’s get to work. We’ve got a battle group to integrate and an insurgency to win."

  ***

  Later that evening, the two groups merged effortlessly, as if they had been working together for years. On board Tangaroa, every visible access point on the starboard side was crowded with off-duty personnel. Some leaned eagerly out of windows, others crowded the railings, while a few had perched themselves on any available ledge—each desperate to catch a glimpse of the magnificent Gerald R. Ford-class Enterprise.

  The sight of the imposing vessel, its sleek silhouette cutting through the dusk, filled every member of Tangaroa's crew with awe. But for some, the excitement went beyond simple admiration. For the nerdier among them, there was a deeper, almost reverent thrill. The Enterprise wasn’t just any ship—it was an icon. That name held weight, reverence, and history, resonating in the hearts of sailors around the world.

  Admiral Malachi Mason and Captain Scott Hutchinson stood together on the bridge wing, arms crossed, and eyes fixed on the towering carrier. The two had been invited aboard Enterprise to dine with Admiral Samantha Garrett, but the dinner itself was secondary. Their eyes, like the rest of the crew’s, were drawn to the ship—a chance to step aboard one of the most advanced warships ever built, to see the heart of the Enterprise, and perhaps, to glean a little bit of her legendary power.

  Malachi couldn't help but grin, his eyes narrowing with excitement as he watched Enterprise glide effortlessly through the water. As a Kiwi, he was still staunchly anti-nuclear, but as a sailor, he couldn’t deny her sheer power and grace, “You know,” he said, his voice soft but tinged with awe, “I think I might’ve felt the same way when I first laid eyes on Tangaroa.”

  Scott let out a knowing chuckle, his gaze lingering on the imposing vessel. “Yeah, but this… this is something else. The Enterprise... I mean, it’s the ENTERPRISE!”

  "Stop being so nerdy! You’re acting like a giddy schoolboy!" Malachi laughed, his grin widening as he nudged Scott with his elbow. “Still, can you imagine what dinner’s going to be like? I wonder if they'll serve something fancy?”

  Scott snorted. “I’ll admit, I’m more excited about the tour. I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep it together long enough not to start asking about their tech.”

  Just then, a voice cut through the banter. “Gentlemen, trying to spot something you shouldn’t be?”

  Both men turned to find Tangaroa's First Lieutenant, Commander Cayden MacNiell, standing behind them, he would be taking command, while the two senior officers were off ship. His amused expression said it all as he surveyed the scene.

  “Relax, Cayden,” Malachi said, flashing him a wry smile. “We’re just soaking in a little greatness.”

  MacNiell grinned, leaning on the railing beside them. “Can’t say I blame you. It’s not every day you get to see an American carrier up close, let alone the Enterprise.”

  Malachi raised an eyebrow. “Oh for fuck’s sake, not you too?”

  MacNiell shook his head with a playful smirk. “Sorry, Boss. Can’t help it. But hey, maybe I’ll get a second-round invitation once you two start charming them with your war stories.” He quipped, waggling his eyebrows conspiratorially.

  Before Malachi could respond, a signal came through MacNiell’s personal comms. “Your chariot awaits, gentlemen.”

  ***

  As it turned out, the dinner was simple yet satisfying—steak and steamed vegetables, done to perfection. The kind of meal that didn’t need to be extravagant to leave an impression. But the true highlight of the evening was the tour. It was everything the two New Zealanders had hoped for and more. The ship was a marvel, with every inch of it exuding cutting-edge technology and precision. They were shown through sleek, gleaming corridors, passed the operations rooms that hummed with activity and cutting-edge systems, and spent a considerable amount of time on the bridge—a command centre that seemed to pulse with a kind of power reserved for the most advanced warships in the world.

  Though both men were certain there were places and systems deliberately off-limits, they didn’t mind. The Enterprise was a world unto itself, and getting even a glimpse into its inner workings was a rare privilege.

  Dinner conversation was equally captivating. Over perfectly grilled steaks and crisp vegetables steamed to perfection, the two admirals discussed global tactics, comparing notes on the rising threats around the world, and swapping stories of their respective past operations. The captains, too, found themselves in their own rhythm, exchanging anecdotes and discussing the capabilities of their ships. It was a rare, candid look at two naval forces, one powerful and one up and coming, coming together in a spirit of cooperation.

  “Tangaroa, that’s Māori, isn’t it? What does it mean?” Admiral Garrett asked, savouring a bite of her dessert—an apple pie so perfectly baked it almost seemed too good to be true, paired with sweet vanilla ice cream.

  “It’s the name of the Māori god of the sea,” Malachi replied, a sense of pride in his voice. “A fitting name for a ship of her class.”

  “Hmmm,” Garrett mused, leaning back slightly as she took another bite of pie. “Very fitting indeed. I can see why you chose it.”

  Conversation drifted on, effortlessly weaving between professional matters and personal reflections. As coffee was served, the air felt charged with a deeper understanding. The evening had been more than just a diplomatic gathering—it had been a meeting of minds, a foundation being built on mutual respect. Garrett’s invitation had clearly been a calculated move, but it was one that paid dividends. Both sides agreed on a crucial point: they needed to collaborate more closely. Joint operations would begin the very next day, with an emphasis on getting the pilots from both fleets to work together. The pilots would test each other’s systems, particularly the cats and traps, a rare opportunity to exchange knowledge and refine their skills in a collaborative setting.

  When HMNZS Achilles joined them the next day, it was the Americans' turn to be impressed. The sight of the 13,500-ton New Zealand cruiser gliding smoothly into position was nothing short of awe-inspiring. Her sleek, formidable profile and bristling weaponry were enough to catch the attention of any naval officer, but it wasn’t just the quality of the ship that left an impression. It was the professionalism and precision of the Achilles's crew. The ship wasn’t just a symbol of New Zealand’s naval prowess; it was a testament to the nation’s growing stature on the world stage.

  As the two navies began their joint operations, a mutual respect began to grow. It wasn’t just the firepower or the technology that drew them together—it was the camaraderie of those who sailed them. This connection was especially apparent among the pilots of both air wings. Over the next few days, as they operated together over the shores of the Solomons, their shared purpose was evident. But it was when the Kiwis took their turn on the Enterprise’s flight deck that the spirit of friendly competition truly blossomed. The New Zealand pilots seemed to have an unerring knack for making perfect landings every single time, consistently catching a perfect three, without fail.

  The Americans, while undeniably skilled, found themselves a little less fortunate. The ribbing from the Kiwis was relentless but good-natured, with laughter echoing across the ready room. “It’s all about timing,” one of the Kiwi pilots teased, a grin wide on his face. “You’ve got to feel the deck, like it’s part of you, ease it in like a gentle lover.”

  “Oh, we feel it alright,” one of the American pilots shot back, shaking his head with a smirk. “Just not in the way we’d like.”

  Despite the teasing, there was an unspoken camaraderie between the two groups. The Enterprise and Tangaroa, two titans of the sea, had much to learn from one another—and much to gain. The exchange of knowledge, skills, and the spirit of mutual respect would only strengthen both fleets. As the exercises continued, it was clear that the bonds being forged here weren’t just between ships—they were between nations. And that, in the end, was the most valuable takeaway of all.

  ***

  Rawlinson stood at the arrivals gate at Suva-Nausori Airport, his eyes scanning the crowd of sailors eagerly awaiting the arrival of their loved ones. The RNZAF 767-400ER had just touched down, its engines rumbling as it taxied to the terminal. It had been months since Caleb had seen his wife, Sarah, and their young son, Cody. A mix of anticipation and relief swirled in his chest, the weight of their absence heavier than he'd realized. After the devastating loss of his first ship, and the harrowing attack on his second, the need for his family had never felt more urgent.

  The sound of children laughing nearby drew Caleb’s gaze to a group of excited young faces, their eyes wide as they spotted their parents emerging from the terminal. A warm smile tugged at his lips as he imagined Cody's reaction when he finally saw him. The boy had grown so much in the months since he'd last held him. Caleb knew the day he’d left behind on the pier in Nelson, that it was going to be hard, but he hadn’t fully understood just how much it would feel like an eternity.

  Beside him, some of the other officers were also getting antsy it seemed, waiting for their families, exchanging stories of their past homecomings. But Caleb’s thoughts were consumed by the woman he loved and the boy he had so desperately missed. He knew Sarah had been through so much, dealing with the stresses of the long separation and managing everything at home on her own. And now that the infrastructure project to expand Suva’s harbour and port facilities was complete, including base housing for families, it meant they could finally settle in close to his unexpected new assignment.

  A slight breeze stirred the air as Caleb checked the time on his watch. The house they had been assigned wasn’t much, but it was located by the beach, and for Caleb, that was more than enough. The idea of having his family close by, of spending weekends with them on the water and sand, filled him with an unfamiliar sense of peace. And then there was Cody—he’d have other kids to play with in the neighbourhood, plenty of new friends to make as they all adjusted to life in this new place. It would be a fresh start, a chance to create new memories after all the chaos and loss.

  He spotted her then, Sarah, pushing through the crowd with Cody in tow. His heart skipped a beat, and without thinking, he stepped forward, his eyes never leaving them. Sarah’s tired eyes brightened when she saw him, and her lips curled into that knowing smile that always made him feel like the luckiest man alive. Beside her, Cody was already bouncing on the balls of his feet, trying to get a glimpse of his father. The moment they locked eyes, Caleb’s chest tightened, a knot of emotion forming that he couldn’t shake. It felt like a weight was lifting off him.

  "Dad!" Cody’s voice was like music to his ears as the boy broke free and sprinted toward him, jumping at the last second.

  Caleb’s arms opened instinctively, catching Cody mid-flight in a tight hug. His son’s laughter rang in his ears, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Caleb felt a warmth spread through him, deeper than anything he had known in months. The world felt right again.

  "Look at you, kiddo," Caleb said, ruffling Cody’s hair as they pulled away. "I missed you so much."

  "I missed you too, Dad!" Cody beamed, his small arms wrapping around Caleb once more.

  From behind, Sarah’s soft voice broke through, filled with warmth and affection. “It’s good to see you, babe.” She stepped forward, her arms sliding around him in a tight embrace. Caleb let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, holding her just as tightly.

  “I didn’t realize how much I needed this,” Caleb murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “But now I know.”

  Sarah nodded, her forehead resting against his shoulder. "I’ve missed you more than I can say."

  “You’re squashing me.” Cody squeaked from between the two.

  The warmth of his family was the balm Caleb had needed all along. The house, modest as it might be, suddenly felt like the perfect place to begin healing. The beach, the new friends, the chance for Cody to grow up in a close-knit community—it was all coming together, like pieces of a puzzle he hadn’t known were missing.

  “Let’s get to the house,” Caleb said softly, pulling away from the embrace just enough to look at both of them. "We’ve got a lot of catching up to do."

  The drive back to their new home was filled with laughter and stories as Sarah and Caleb exchanged updates from the months apart. Cody chattered excitedly about the kids he’d met on the plane and the adventures he was eager to have now that they were finally here. As they neared the house, Caleb couldn’t help but smile. The sound of the waves crashing gently in the distance, the soft breeze carrying the salty air—it was the life he had dreamed of the life he would build with his family, side by side.