I Was Told to Be Generous, so I Gave Her Up

The people around the table exchanged looks. Then, one after another, they started speaking up for my wife, Lorraine Ford.

Everyone in the base housing knew she had given the transfer slot into the unit to Rowan Langley, except me. The husband who should've been told first didn't hear a word of it.

I endured the disappointment and walked up to Lorraine. "How long were you planning to keep this from me? Were you going to wait until you took off with him before telling me I didn't qualify for the unit?"

She shifted her gaze just a little. That one dodging look told me everything I needed to know.

"You're tough," she said quietly. "No one can push you around. But Rowan's different. He needs me watching his back. Be reasonable, Hunter."

Be reasonable? Did she even remember we had been married for three years?

For all those years, she had been tied up with training. If I counted the nights we actually shared a bed, it wouldn't even add up to a year.

Now, she was saying Rowan needed her protection. That was her excuse for handing him my clerical post in the unit so he could take my place and stay by her side every day.

For three years, he had stolen the time with my wife that should've been mine. Now, she was telling me he would take the rest of her life, too. On what grounds?

Rowan's eyes reddened slightly. He sighed. "Hunter, I tried talking to Lorraine about it more than once, but she just thinks unit life's too hard on you, that you'd be too weak to take it."

He reached out, grabbing my arm like we were brothers-in-arms.

My chest felt like a thousand needles were piercing it. "Too weak to take it? For the past two years, she hasn't sent home a single allowance. I taught classes by day, ran a street stall at night, and worked myself straight into a hospital bed.

"Is that what you call being weak? I pushed through a full year of physical conditioning just to qualify for transfer—running drills, crawling through mud, and field exercises till I was dead on my feet. That's your idea of being weak?"

For two years, everything I did was to get posted into the same unit as Lorraine. Every step I took, I kept it clean so I wouldn't leave any stain on my record.

Yet, without a word, she handed my one chance to join the unit to Rowan, serving it on a silver platter. Her flimsy excuse of denying me my opportunity for my own good got exposed in front of everyone.

Rowan's eyes glistened, as if he was about to break. "Lorraine, you should just give the transfer slot back to Hunter. If it comes down to it, I'll just stay in the village. Let people talk. I can take it…"

Lorraine moved quickly to comfort him. When she looked back at me, her expression had gone cold.

Dad spoke first. "Hunter, is this how we raised you? Rowan's got no parents, and his wife's been dead three years. How could you be so cold-hearted to him?"

Mom chimed in, her face tight with disapproval. "People already talk because of Rowan's situation, and you're now making it worse. Are you doing this on purpose?"

Tears hit before I could stop them. It felt like something sharp had been driven straight through my chest. "You just stood there and watched me turn into a joke in front of everyone. Do you even remember I'm your son?"

No wonder my parents had gone out of their way to have me prepare barbecued ribs and grilled wings. They knew I couldn't stand greasy food, but it all made sense now.

The meal I cooked with my own hands was never meant for Lorraine and me. It was a send-off dinner for Rowan and her.

Guilt flickered across their faces. Their lips parted, words struggling to roll off their tongues.

Just then, Lorraine cut in. "Enough! It's my call who gets to transfer into the unit. I decide who goes! Hunter, the way you're acting now—this jealousy—it's disgraceful. Rowan would never behave like this!"