Chapter 2

"What about Miss Sterling? What about her five years of waiting? Aren't you afraid of breaking her heart by treating her like this?"

The deputy captain's tone carried a hint of accusation.

Hayden was silent for a long time.

So long that I thought he might feel even a sliver of guilt.

Then he suddenly stood up and crisply unbuttoned his uniform.

He took the tactical belt down from the wall, his voice calm:

"That's why I'll never let her find out the truth. Tonight, I'll run a hundred laps around the field carrying sixty-six pounds of weight. I won't stop until I finish. These hundred laps will be my atonement to her."

In tropical heat, running a hundred laps carrying sixty-six pounds—that was torturing himself to the edge of death.

I stood outside the door, listening to his heavy footsteps echoing on the scorching rubber track.

"Thump, thump..."

Each sound felt like a slap across my face.

If this had been the old me, I would have rushed over crying to stop him, would have stayed up all night applying cold compresses out of heartbreak.

I remembered two years ago, when he said in a video call that he'd been slightly injured, I sobbed uncontrollably.

Across the screen, his eyes were as gentle as water: "Vivian, don't cry. Every tear you shed shatters me here once more."

But now, I just stared numbly as he ran beneath the night sky.

He was using this self-harming form of penance to kidnap my guilt.

He'd cover himself in wounds to make me ache for him, to make me afraid to push.

These hundred laps weren't to marry me.

They were the psychological currency he paid so he could stay by Lily's side with a clear conscience.

I turned around and threw the box of pastries I had carried across three thousand miles directly into the base's incinerator.

It was his favorite New York leather candy, made by an old craftsman I had searched high and low to find.

Now, in the flames, it slowly melted into black charcoal.

Due to wartime communication restrictions, I could only use the satellite phone in the communications room to call back home to Brookhaven.

The call connected, and my mother's gentle voice came through.

"Vivian, did you see Hayden? Is he still not coming home this year?"

Mom sighed, her voice full of heartache. "I've said it all along—if a man truly wants to marry you, he can do it even if the sky falls down. You've wasted five years of your youth in New York. Are you really going to keep waiting?"

I listened to Hayden's silhouette running on the field outside the window.

"Vivian, listen to Mom. Come home."

"Do you still remember Trevor Bennett? He was transferred back to Brookhaven last year as Deputy Director. He's been waiting for you. He said as long as you're willing to come back, the Bennett family can hold the wedding anytime. Mom just doesn't want to watch you debase yourself any longer."

Six years ago, for Hayden's sake, I had rejected a stable life and rejected my childhood sweetheart Trevor Bennett.

"Mom," I spoke, my voice without a single ripple.

She paused on the other end: "Vivian?"

I looked at the blood-red sunset on the horizon, and the last flicker of fire in my heart went out.

"I'm not waiting anymore. I'll come back to Brookhaven tomorrow and marry Trevor Bennett."

After hanging up, I didn't go find Hayden to make a scene.

I went back to the family reception room and began packing all my things.

His uniform hung on the wall; a photo of us sat on the table.

In the photo, he had his arm around my shoulder, smiling with such devotion.

I dug out the medal he had sent home last year. He'd said he'd earned it with his life and that it would be our token of love.

Now, the medal glinted coldly under the lamplight, like a resounding slap.

I dropped it into the toilet and pressed the flush. It disappeared without a trace.