Done Chasing the Cold-Hearted Commander

Just then, my phone vibrated, pulling me out of my memories.

"Major Tomlinson, I'm calling to let you know that your biological parents' personal effects have been cleared, and all survivor benefits claims have been approved. When are you available to come in and finalize the paperwork?"

I pulled my cuff down, covering the scar on my wrist. "Ten days from now. My divorce will be finalized in exactly ten days."

The person on the other end of the line paused for a moment before responding, "It hasn't been easy for you and Commander Linwood all these years. For your information, you don't actually have to transfer out of your original unit just to inherit the estate and honors."

I stared out the window at the fleeting lights of the military barracks and answered calmly, "I don't love him anymore. All I want is to leave this place forever."

When I returned home and pushed the door open, the first thing that came into view was our wedding photo hanging on the wall. The man in the photograph was beaming, with the tip of his nose affectionately nuzzling against my temple. It had been taken when we loved each other most.

Nathan and I had both grown up in the military district orphanage. When I was 18 years old, the director tried to marry me off to a violent old sergeant whose wife had passed away.

Nathan was the one who took my hand and climbed over the wall to escape the compound with me. Behind us, the director yelled, "I'd see if you have what it takes to protect her for the rest of your life, Nathan!"

Nathan had glanced over his shoulder with an all-consuming light shining in his eyes. "In that case, I'll protect her for the rest of my life!"

Using the bereavement compensation his parents left behind, he rented the cheapest shack in the village and marched straight into the military recruitment office to enlist.

"Once I join the army and rack up enough achievements, I'll be able to get you registered as a military spouse. When that time comes, no one can marry you off!" Nathan vowed.

During his first three years as a new recruit, he risked his neck every day in the reconnaissance company. Before heading out on any dangerous mission, he would always slip my photo into his breast pocket, right against his chest.

Meanwhile, I worked a civilian desk job in the Personnel Office, pinching every penny of my meager salary. During our darkest days, the two of us couldn't even scrape together ten dollars, and we shared a single bowl of instant pasta to ring in the New Year.

Later, he made it into Special Forces, whereas I transferred to the Intelligence Unit. We moved from that cheap shack into bachelor quarters and eventually into the sprawling officer quarters.

The stars on his shoulders grew brighter, and the circle of "comrades" around him became a blur of different faces. Then came the day I found a smudge of lipstick, in a shade that wasn't mine, pressed against the inner collar of his combat fatigues.

"A young lady twisted her ankle, so I helped her to the backstage. She must have brushed against me by accident!" He yanked at his collar in frustration. "Can you stop being so damn paranoid all the time, Vivian?"

"Does that mean you'd never betray me? Nathan Linwood, we swore to a lifetime together. Cut it short by even one day, and it's no longer forever!"

We began to argue endlessly. I combed through his call logs, and on the nights he claimed he had extra training, I would even sneak out to the perimeter of the training grounds, lurking in the shadows.

As if out of pure spite, Nathan turned my suspicions into reality. He paraded one woman after another, and at his absolute worst, he had deliberately flaunted the scratch marks on his back just to push my buttons.

"Are you happy now?" he snickered. "Didn't you want to investigate? Now, you've found proof!"

I felt like a lunatic. I knew perfectly well that I should let go, yet I just couldn't bring myself to do it.

After more than a decade, Nathan and I were woven into the very fabric of each other's flesh. To tear ourselves apart would leave us a bloody, unrecognizable mess. Yet staying together was nothing but mutual torture.

However, a year ago, he suddenly changed his tune. Out of nowhere, he got rid of every woman around him, leaving only one young woman behind.

I hired an investigator, but the moment I laid eyes on Veronica's photo, I completely broke down. The young woman in the picture looked just like me at 18 years old—naive and wide-eyed.

It dawned on me that Nathan would rather love a ghost of my past than love the woman standing right in front of him. Consequently, I lay in the bathtub and slit my wrist that night.

When Nathan broke through the door, even his fingers were trembling. He carried me in his arms as he rushed into the general hospital in the military district, his eyes terrifyingly bloodshot.

"Have you lost your mind, Vivian? We can make this work, okay? I promise it's just you and me from here on out. I'll never see anyone else again!"

Lying in the hospital bed, I only felt exhausted—so exhausted that I couldn't even shed a tear. It was also on that very day that the Department of Defense found me and handed over a yellowed file.

"Major Tomlinson, the department has re-examined the list of casualties from the Battle of Riverdale. We've verified that two of the casualties on that list were, in fact, your biological parents."