My Love Was Gone

When I woke up again, I found myself lying in a hospital bed.

Rodger sat on my bedside and said in a low voice, "During the negotiations, the kidnappers said they would only release one hostage. They chose to release Jolene. I'm sorry. I failed to protect Jacob."

A sharp pain pierced my heart as I stared intently at his face.

He could actually lie so calmly, without a trace of panic or guilt.

He thought I didn't understand Spanish.

Throughout our five-year marriage, I had only spoken English in front of him.

He had no idea that I was a retired special forces operative, fluent in eight languages, with Spanish being my most proficient.

Every word he exchanged with the kidnappers was etched into my mind.

He added, "And we must consider the bigger picture. Even if the kidnappers hadn't chosen Jolene, you and Jacob must still be secondary, as you are my family. I believe Jacob would understand and accept my decision."

I silently hugged my arms, and my arms became increasingly tight.

Jacob's gradually cold body was still in my arms.

I recalled the time Rodger, Jacob, and I went to see a movie one day. We were caught in a downpour after the movie finished.

Rodger took off his jacket to shield Jacob and me, holding us close as the rain soaked his back.

Yet, he smiled and said, "Don't worry. I'll always protect you."

But he was now shielding another woman.

And Jacob and I had become expendable sacrifices.

I didn't cry.

My tears seemed to have already dried up with the sound of the gunshot.

After returning home, I became unusually quiet.

I neither cried nor caused a scene, resembling a soulless shell. I just quietly sorted through Jacob's belongings.

Rodger assumed I was traumatized and mentally unstable, so he called in a psychologist.

I cooperated with every question, only to see the words "post-traumatic stress disorder" on the diagnosis.

Late at night, while Rodger slept deeply, my phone vibrated.

It was an encrypted message that self-destructed after being read.

The message contained just one sentence.

"Falcon, your reenlistment has been approved."

I went to the study and opened a long-forgotten safe.

With practiced hands, I dismantled, assembled, and cleaned the sniper rifle hidden in the secret corner.

The cold metal felt like a rare comfort to my chaotic mind.

Standing by the window, I gazed into the heavy darkness outside.

Dawn was approaching.

...

Jacob's funeral was exceedingly simple.

Rodger told me that the case was sensitive and we had to deal with it secretly, so he didn't notify any relatives or friends of ours.

I knew he just wanted to protect Jolene from criticism.

Standing alone in the empty mourning hall, I looked at the small photo at the center.

Jacob smiled in the photo. With his tiny canine teeth shown, he looked so adorable.

It felt like a massive stone was lodged in my chest, suffocating me.

I suddenly remembered his hundred-day celebration.

Back then, Rodger had thrown a lavish banquet at the city's finest hotel and invited all our relatives and friends.

He couldn't wait to announce to the world that he had an adorable son.

Holding Jacob in his arms, he proudly said to everyone, "This is my son. He'll grow up healthy and become a top negotiator, too."

Those words still echoed in my ears.

Now, Jacob was dead, and Rodger couldn't even have a dignified farewell.

The mourning hall was silent, with only me there.

I stood there in black and gazed at Jacob's photo.

Then I heard the sound of high heels approaching.

Jolene arrived.

She wore a plain long dress, and her face was adorned with delicate makeup. As soon as she entered, she threw herself in front of the table and cried fake tears. "Poor Jacob..."

She wept while glancing at me with eyes full of triumph and provocation.

Rodger had just entered when Jolene staggered. She let out a soft cry and fell straight toward him.

Rodger swiftly stepped forward and caught her securely.

"Jolene, what's wrong?" His voice carried a tension he didn't seem to notice himself.

"I'm...fine." Jolene weakly leaned against him and said, "It breaks my heart to see Jacob..."

Rodger's parents followed closely behind.

As soon as Rodger's mother saw me, she rushed over, pointed at my nose, and cursed, "You bad luck charm! You killed my grandson! I won't let you off!"

Rodger held Jolene and furrowed his brows tightly. He ignored his mother's insults without a word of defense for me.

I stood there and watched the farce unfold. My hands were in my pockets, and my fingers tightly gripped a cold metal object.

It was the bullet that had struck Jacob's body in the abandoned factory.

Soon, Rodger took Jolene, who was "palpitating", to the hospital.

I stood alone before the crematorium, watching through a small window as the roaring flames consumed Jacob, whom I had carried for ten months and nearly died to give birth to.

During Jacob's birth, I suffered severe bleeding and narrowly escaped death.

The doctor said I might never be able to get pregnant again.

Jacob was my only child.

Finally, the staff member placed Jacob's ashes in a small box and handed it to me.

Jacob felt so light.

I carried the urn home alone.

The streetlights stretched my shadow long.