My ex and current husbands both graduated from the top military academy, so I never attended any of my current husband's class reunions.

I was always afraid the two of them might run into each other at such events and create an awkward scene.

But today, my husband, Frederic Drayton, insisted I pick him up.

I figured since he and my ex, Geoffrey Baldwin, weren't in the same branch of service, they probably wouldn't cross paths.

Suppressing my irritation at being woken by a call, I pushed open the door to the private room at the officers' club.

"Sorry to interrupt, everyone. I'm here to pick up my husband."

The next second, the noise in the room died abruptly.

A room full of officers with gleaming insignia was fixed on me at once.

And the man seated at the head of the table, his uniform sharp, his gaze cool and stern, was slowly turning his service cap in his hands.

"Claudine Welch?" Someone broke the silence. "This is a reunion for top academy alumni. What's a community college grad doing here?"

The room erupted in mocking laughter.

"Look, it's the drama queen. Remember when hotshot cadet Geoffrey filled his whole political science exam with her name? Ended up marching for 72 hours straight."

"I heard you schemed your way into your stepbrother's bed and forced him to marry you—how else would someone like him end up with a slacker? His wife is a colonel. That's a real power couple. How do you have the nerve to show up?"

The weight of their collective gaze landed squarely on me.

No one knew that Geoffrey had once been the worst troublemaker in the academy. He clawed his way to the top, all for me.

But none of that mattered anymore.

Meeting everyone's gaze, I didn't show the humiliation they expected. I just offered a calm, faint smile. "I'm not here to socialize with officers. I'm here to take my husband home."

Geoffrey, who had been silent until now, finally spoke, his voice low and grave. "Claudie, we divorced five years ago."

I smiled and nodded. "I know.

"So, I wasn't talking about picking you up, Major General Baldwin."

***

"How pathetic, still clinging to Major General Baldwin after the divorce."

A few disdainful snorts sounded.

Ambrose Dunlap stared at me, his tone casual and cutting.

"First time I've seen someone so eager to be the other woman."

Ambrose was the closest friend Geoffrey and I had back on the military base.

He used to be one of the people who treated me best.

But when Geoffrey and I divorced, he'd immediately taken Geoffrey's side.

Because the girl he liked was the very woman who'd broken our marriage.

And he had helped Geoffrey keep their relationship a secret from me.

Only I—from beginning to end—had been the fool left in the dark.

"Ambrose, that's enough." Geoffrey frowned, his voice carrying the distinct authority of a military man.

Ambrose wasn't having it. "What's the big deal? Someone like Claudine is nothing compared to a refined officer like Cordelia.

"Only you ever saw anything in a dunce like her, wasting all those years."

Geoffrey glanced at me, his tone firm. "Claudine isn't a dunce."

Hearing that from a genius like Geoffrey was laughable.

But fifteen-year-old me had believed every word.

When I was a freshman in high school, my mother married Geoffrey's father.

Geoffrey and I were the same age, and we ended up at the same public high school.

We were even placed in the same class. He was dead last in rankings; I was slightly below average.

Geoffrey hated me, so he never spoke to me.

I often saw him get into fights and then get disciplinary action from the school, which meant Mom would be called in, forced to listen to criticism with her head bowed.

One night, I got up to use the bathroom and found her sitting on the couch in the dark, wiping away tears.

"Claudie, how can I get Frey to accept me?"

I didn't know. All I knew was that after that day, the already tense peace between Geoffrey and me snapped into open hostility.

I put paprika in his training canteen, stuffed sticky modeling clay into his olive-green backpack, and slipped bugs into his lunchbox.

Geoffrey issued an ultimatum. "Is that all you've got? Claudine, if you don't finish me off, I'll make sure your mother never feels at home here again."

We were locked in that battle for five months.

I thought Geoffrey would be the person I hated most for the rest of my life.

But I never expected everything to change so suddenly.

My standoff with Geoffrey ended after an incident of domestic violence.

Mom was hospitalized after being beaten by Geoffrey's father.

Even as she was wheeled into the operating room, he kept hurling curses.

"I chased you for two years. You're just eye candy—useless in every other way."

Mom was nearly forty. Her first marriage had left her utterly sheltered, with few practical skills to speak of.

When he said those words, Geoffrey's usual cold expression shattered. He stared at me in shock, muttering, "Your mother seduced my dad..."

Geoffrey had hated Mom, believing she was the other woman who destroyed his parents' marriage and drove his own mother away.

But none of that mattered anymore, because after that day, I was motherless.

When I brought her favorite white asters to the hospital, I learned she was gone.

She took nothing with her.

She didn't take me either.

I had no home. I didn't know where to go.

Late that night, while I wandered near the roadside, Geoffrey found me.

His eyes were red, and he looked furious. I curled into myself, afraid he would hit me.

Instead, his warm arms wrapped around me, and I heard him speak gently for the very first time.

"Claudine, come home with me.

"You won't be alone anymore. You have me."

I took the hand he offered and held it tight.

Ever since that year when I was fifteen, Geoffrey was my whole world.

After Mom left, Geoffrey's father grew even more volatile.

Geoffrey moved us out, afraid I'd get hurt.

Life went on, but it was different now.

I stopped acting out. Geoffrey softened, his gaze growing gentle.

Geoffrey spent more and more time studying. I finally asked him, "I thought you hated schoolwork."

His gaze was serious before he softened, giving my cheek a light pinch. "Claudine, I'm aiming for West Point. Once I'm in, I'll build a secure life for us."

Seeing the tips of his ears turn pink, I nodded firmly.

I swore I would never hold Geoffrey back.

I hit the books hard after that. But even when Geoffrey turned his grades around from worst to best, mine stayed just okay.

Geoffrey tutored me at home until midnight. I stared blankly at a physics problem.

He said, "Claudine, you really are something.

"But I like you just the way you are—endearingly hopeless."

Drowsiness took over. The pencil slipped from my fingers.

I mumbled, "Geoffrey, can't you slow down? I can't keep up."

Geoffrey promised I'd never have to chase him, that he'd always wait for me.

He didn't keep that promise.

Later, he came to hate that "hopeless" part of me.

It annoyed him.

"And you think she's not a dunce? After all that tutoring, community college was the best she could get into."

Ambrose adjusted his service cap and chimed in.

I glanced around but didn't see my husband.

It was true that Frederic and Geoffrey had attended the same academy, but they were in different branches.

They probably wouldn't be at the same reunion. I figured he might have sent me the wrong address.

I had no interest in rehashing the past.

"My mistake," I said, and walked out.

I texted Frederic, but got no reply. His phone went straight to voicemail.

I decided to head home.

Just before I pulled the car door open, a hand caught my wrist.

"Sweetie, don't stay mad at me, alright?" Geoffrey kept his eyes down, his expression unreadable.

That tone used to make me blush. Once, it was the perfect way for two reserved people like us to flirt.

But later, this same tone was what truly hurt me.

"Geoffrey, stop pretending." I pulled my hand away, voice distant. "We're done."

A tense silence fell, broken by a slow, deliberate tread of boots.

"Claudie, what a coincidence." Cordelia Beasley walked over, her military boots clicking, as haughty and bold as ever.

In the past, I would have hunched my shoulders instinctively, unable to meet her gaze.

I would have felt jealousy, panic, dimmed by the light she seemed to carry.

But now, those heart-wrenching days were long gone. Only a sense of peace stayed with me.

"Claudie, why don't you come home with Frey and me? Your mother misses you."

Even I was surprised at how calmly, after five years, I could say, "I don't have a mother."

I was left with no brother and no mother.

They both stood with Cordelia.

As for me, I had already moved on.

Cordelia casually tucked her hair behind her ear, letting the service medal pendant around her neck catch the light.

It was an heirloom from Geoffrey's grandfather, meant for his future granddaughter-in-law.

I had worn that pendant for eleven years.

Geoffrey's and my bond had only lasted eleven.

Ambrose was right about one thing—I really was hopeless.

Even with Geoffrey tutoring me tirelessly, I could only scrape into a community college.

Geoffrey, on the other hand, aced the SAT and got into West Point.

We were both in the same city, not too far apart.

We couldn't see each other often, but the time we had was sweet, inseparable.

It was the simplest kind of happiness, a memory I'd never be able to forget.

Geoffrey was handsome and brilliant. Plenty of people pursued him at the academy.

But he made sure I never felt insecure.

I often visited him on campus.

He was too well-known; even the smallest thing about him drew attention.

Gradually, posts started appearing online saying I wasn't good enough for him.

"Nothing but a pretty face," they said. "No talent, no background. How does someone so hopeless think she deserves Geoffrey?"

Geoffrey had already made our relationship public.

When he found out, it really got to him. "They don't see what I see in you," he said.

So, instead of writing down the right answers, he got my name all over his whole political science exam.

He got disciplined for it and was criticized by the instructor for being "distracted by romance".

The incident made waves across the academy.

Geoffrey wanted everyone to know I was his girlfriend. But when we got married, he said, "Claudine, let's keep it quiet for now.

"Just wait a few more years. When I've made my mark, I'll give you the wedding you deserve."

I agreed.

In the fifth year of our marriage, Geoffrey was promoted to Major General—the youngest in his command.

But I never got the grand wedding he promised.

Instead, I found out he was having an affair.

On our fifth wedding anniversary, Geoffrey flew into a rage because I had lost the service medal necklace he'd given me.

He was so angry that he slammed the door on his way out—the first time he'd ever raised his voice at me like that.

It was pouring that day. I took an umbrella and retraced my steps everywhere I'd been.

I remembered the rented apartment near our high school where we'd lived together for a while.

Geoffrey had bought that place later.

The walls there held so many memories from our high school years.

It was also where we'd first been together.

Memory and reality overlapped.

I never expected that the moment I pushed the door open, I would see Geoffrey pinning a woman beneath him, driving into her.

In that instant, my whole body went cold, a ringing filling my ears.

I knew her. It was Cordelia.

Geoffrey had mentioned her to me, though never in detail.

At first, he'd said Cordelia's father had forced her into his unit, and he figured she'd be nothing but trouble.

But later, he started calling Cordelia capable, with strong military instincts and a sharp mind.

And it was around that time that Geoffrey began calling me hopeless.

We slowly ran out of topics to say. He'd brush off my questions with, "Just drop it. You won't get it."

Sometimes, he would say, "Claudine, you're hopeless."

But I had honestly been happy that he'd found a competent partner.

Guilt had driven me to search for the necklace everywhere.

Then I saw it around Cordelia's neck, her gaze sharp with challenge.

I hadn't lost it at all.

Geoffrey had simply given it to another woman.

She rose slowly, leaning back against him. "Shocked?

"We had sex all over your quarters—the bed, the balcony, the sofa. Every corner.

"Today, we just wanted to try where you two first got close."

A dull buzz filled my head. All strength left me.

On pure instinct, I snatched the photo frame from the table and threw it at her.

Geoffrey pulled Cordelia against his chest, his eyes burning. "Claudine, have you lost your mind?!"

The man who once promised to be my whole world shoved me hard to the floor.

My hands were cut and full of glass.

The photo—our very first picture together—lay in pieces.

In it, he'd held me close, grinning like he'd won a prize.

Now, his eyes held only disgust.

Before I could even breathe, he landed the next blow. "Claudine, just stop! You made me feel suffocated. No wonder your mother didn't want you!"

Mom had remarried after all.

She'd married Cordelia's father. For eleven years, she had been like a real mother to her.

My eleven years of longing twisted into a nightmare.

Later, Geoffrey demanded a divorce.

I refused to give them what they wanted, but I was outmatched.

Everyone I had ever loved turned against me: my husband, my friend, and my mother.

Geoffrey locked me in his base apartment.

For nearly two weeks, he took his anger out on me.

"I won't sign. If you think you'll marry her, you're dreaming."

Back then, our marriage license felt like my trump card.

I clung to it, stubborn to the point of madness.

But I hadn't realized Geoffrey could be even crueler.

Two weeks later, a blurred-out video was leaked online.

The audio was crystal clear. "I love you most. Love me a little more."

Geoffrey had suggested filming it years ago, during one of his long deployments. He said he needed something to hold onto when I wasn't there.

He was always so straight-laced.

When he first suggested it, I was both shy and surprised.

Geoffrey and Cordelia understood how to work the media perfectly.

That one line was all it took to put me at the center of the storm.

My own mother and my closest friend were the ones who poured fuel on the fire.

Mom accused me of seducing my stepbrother, claiming I'd driven her to a divorce.

Ambrose insisted Geoffrey had only ever seen me as a little sister he felt responsible for—that I'd betrayed his kindness by seducing him and forcing him to marry me out of obligation.

The final blow came from Geoffrey himself.

I was lying in bed, numb, scrolling through their public accusations when Cordelia came to see me.

She told me she'd confessed her feelings to Geoffrey back at West Point.

He'd turned her down.

He told her he still had to prove himself.

If she could be patient, he promised to become someone who could be with her publicly as an equal.

That same night, I gave in.

I agreed to the divorce.

As I signed the papers, my mind drifted back.

I thought of a younger, driven Geoffrey promising me a better life.

But the future he was building now had no room for me.

I wiped my tears and asked him, "What was I to you? Just someone to pass the time with?

"Or a comfort until you found the one you really wanted?"

Geoffrey looked at me. "Claudine, I did love you. Really."

I held back the tears.

His feelings for me were genuine once, but people would change.

During the separation period, I barely left the house.

The scandal surrounding Geoffrey and me was everywhere.

Going out meant facing insults, hostile looks, or worse.

On the day the divorce was finalized, I found out I was pregnant.

For five years, we'd been trying with no success.

I moved back to the old apartment near our high school—the only thing I asked for in the settlement.

I threw out the bed they'd used and spent my days curled on the sofa.

I gardened, grew vegetables, and read.

When memories of Geoffrey surfaced, I'd burn pictures.

In the beginning, I burned hundreds a day until I forced myself to space it out by thirty minutes.

Over time, the burning happened less often.

I ignored the pregnancy.

Perhaps my baby knew they weren't welcome, keeping quiet, causing me little discomfort for six months.

In the sixth month, I terminated it.

That was the month Geoffrey and Cordelia held their wedding—a formal military ceremony, far grander than the wedding he had always promised me.

That day, I burned the last of the photos.

At twenty-six, I was wiser than the fifteen-year-old me.

What my younger self had clung to so desperately, I could calmly let go now.

There was no longer a place for Geoffrey in my life.