Farewell, Admiral

I placed the divorce papers and our son’s ultrasound photos beneath Felix Brown’s favorite aircraft model. Only that way would he ever notice them.

I clutched my lower abdomen, a dull ache spreading through it, my face drained of color. Then, I booked a plane ticket to Salt River City and turned to leave.

Lucy, our housekeeper, rushed out of the kitchen in a panic and stopped me. She hesitated and then said softly, “Ma’am, Admiral Brown said that as long as you’re willing to study military knowledge, he won’t stay angry with you.”

I gave a bitter smile and shook my head. Without looking back, I walked past her, saying, “No need.”

Just as I arrived at the airport, Felix called me—something he rarely did.

He suppressed his anger and accused me, “You snuck out on your own, caused a premature birth of our baby, and got my son killed, yet you still have the nerve to ask for a divorce?”

My hand trembled as I held the phone. Standing in the security line, surrounded by strangers, tears slipped down my face despite my efforts to stop them.

That very day, I was scheduled for my prenatal checkup. Felix, the child’s father, forgot about it entirely. That alone would have been bad enough, but to make things worse, he locked me in the house and forced me to memorize military facts. I had no choice but to climb out through a first-floor window. Never would I have foreseen that on the way to the hospital, I’d be hit by a car, triggering premature labor.

However, before I could explain any of this, his sharp voice cut in again, “Autumn, as a mother, you ignored your son’s safety and went out without my permission, leading to his death. For that, you’re utterly irresponsible, and as the admiral’s wife, you’re empty-headed and completely unworthy of your position.”

The noise around me blurred into a dull roar. I felt like I couldn’t breathe.

After a long silence, I couldn’t help asking, “Our child is gone. Are you not at fault for that, too?”

I was eight months pregnant, so the baby was fully formed. The doctor had said that if a C-section had been done in time, the baby could have survived. As long as Felix had signed his name, my child could have lived. Yet, he refused; maybe he never wanted our child to be born in the first place.

I remembered our wedding night clearly. That same night, his first love, Grace Avery, suddenly went into premature labor.

She called him in tears, saying, “Felix, my stomach hurts so badly… Please come save me, or I’ll die…”

He immediately abandoned nearly a hundred fellow officers who had come to celebrate us, abandoned me—the bride—and rushed to the hospital like he’d lost his mind.

“I’m the person Gracie loves the most. I’ll sign the consent form! If anything happens, I’ll take responsibility!”

In the end, Grace and her daughter were both safe.

Felix finally relaxed. He sent over truckloads of supplements and supplies. He even personally cooked for them, willingly acting like a full-time caretaker. Meanwhile, I became the laughingstock of the entire military housing compound.

I sniffed, forcing myself to stay calm.

“Felix, you saved Grace and her daughter, but you killed your own child…”

There was nothing but silence on the other end of the line.

After a long while, he spoke again, irritation creeping into his voice. “Autumn, how could you compare yourself to Gracie? Don’t forget what happened back then–”

That incident, having bothered me for years, was stirred again.

I let out a soft laugh and cut him off. “That’s exactly why we should divorce. Then, you can marry the woman you truly want and become her daughter’s father.”

Through clenched teeth, he said, “Autumn, don’t regret this.”

Just then, the boarding announcement sounded. I picked up my bag and walked toward the gate.

“I won’t.”

From that moment on, the city I had lived in for ten years was no longer my home.