I Survived War, but Not My First Love

Being a war correspondent, I spend all my time searching for any trace of Damian Calloway. Through countless close brushes with death, only one thought keeps me going—I want to die by his side. Four years later, I receive a phone call from him. "Evelyn, Camille finally forgave you," Damian says, his voice coming through the receiver with jarring clarity. In the background, the peaceful, mundane sounds of life drift through the line, a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield around me. I freeze. "What are you talking about?" Damian chuckles. "I left the military a long time ago. I've been back home with Camille this whole time. You made her cry before you left, and she has a temper. She wanted to teach you a lesson, but she's over it now, so you can come home and marry me." The wedding date we decided on is exactly one month away. It turns out that he has been keeping track of the dates the entire time, treating the danger I survive daily as if it's a joke. When I step into the terminal, his friends don't even bother hiding their smirks. "Look at her," one of them mutters. "She's a total simp. As if she could actually stay mad." "One phone call from Damian, and she drops everything to fly across the world—" Just then, everyone freezes. The smile vanishes from Damian's face as every eye locks onto the unfamiliar wedding ring on my finger.