“Ash, please stop… It’s already so raw.” Tears streamed down my face as I slumped before the man in military uniform. His voice was gentle, yet his hands didn’t falter. “Unless it’s perfectly clean, I won’t come near you.” My husband, General Ashworth Thorne, was… peculiar. Not only did our monthly intimacy require a formal request from me, but before he’d even consider touching me, I had to undergo a full three-stage disinfection, inside and out. But then, on our fifth wedding anniversary, I found a ripped silk stocking in his car. When I confronted him, he merely turned the steering wheel with an unnervingly calm expression. “I lent the car to Xander last week.” I didn’t say anything. Instead, I contacted his aide, Sergeant Brooks. That’s when I learned about a new junior comms officer recently assigned to Ashworth’s division. Over the phone, Brooks’s voice was hushed, almost a whisper. “Ms. Harper, I saw the General kiss her foot with my own eyes. They even shared a drink. And… I hear she might be pregnant.” “You’ve been good to me, I couldn’t stand to see you kept in the dark.” After hanging up, I calmly drafted the divorce papers. Ashworth, we’re done. … The next morning, I drove straight to the military headquarters. Sergeant Brooks’s face went white when he saw me. I glanced at Ashworth’s office – papers were strewn everywhere. Ashworth, the man who would instantly disinfect anything another person so much as brushed against, was currently pinning a woman to the floor, locked in a passionate kiss. Faint whimpers escaped the room. The woman inside met my gaze, her eyes devoid of any fear. I remembered that face. Three months ago, she’d just been assigned here, and had been utterly terrified, apologizing profusely when she’d accidentally knocked a file from my hands. “It must be hard on you.” I greeted Brooks, then pushed the door open without a knock. CRASH! The door slammed against the wall with a deafening thud. Startled, the two broke apart. I’d expected some flicker of panic, a clumsy excuse, or at least a hint of shame when caught in the act. But there was none. He merely frowned, his eyes filled with bewilderment and irritation. “Didn’t I tell you that you need to wear a sterile suit and disinfect three times before entering my office?” In his eyes, no emergency, no personal drama, could ever outweigh his almost pathological need for cleanliness. For five years, I had rigidly adhered to his rules. But now, it seemed utterly pointless. Because the young woman’s sweat was mingling with his, and he didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. Elara Vance’s uniform was disheveled, her face flushed crimson. “Ms. Harper, please don’t misunderstand. I just slipped while delivering some files, and General Thorne helped me steady myself.” Though she spoke to me, her eyes darted to Ashworth’s reaction. This girl, eight years my junior. Young, vibrant, and utterly oblivious to boundaries. I ignored her, tossing the divorce papers onto Ashworth’s face. The freshly printed pages still carried the faint scent of toner. Ashworth’s frown deepened. He must despise that smell. After all, in our home, every item had to undergo three layers of disinfection before it was allowed in his presence. Ashworth’s gaze flickered to the agreement on the floor, and he sighed with exasperation. “Listen, Harper, I told you, that item belonged to Xander. Can you please stop being so dramatic?” Xander was his academy classmate, one of his very few friends. But he’d forgotten, in his lie, that Xander had been deployed for field training four months ago, and Ashworth never lent his car, because he found it ‘dirty.’ But he wasn't the only one with a cleanliness fixation. I found a disloyal marriage just as dirty. “Sign it. Divorce. It’s the best outcome for us.” I stood my ground, unyielding. He laughed, a bitter, angry sound. “What’s the point? You know my parents and the command won’t approve.” “In all our years of marriage, I haven’t touched another woman. This is just this one time.” “Can’t you just do what a General’s wife is supposed to do? Turn a blind eye?” According to him, I should be grateful that he only cheated with one person. He turned to Elara, his voice softening instantly. “You can go now. Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.” But Elara took a step forward, a patch of skin on her collarbone, marked with a kiss, peeking from under her loose hair. “Ms. Harper, please don’t be angry with General Thorne. It’s all my fault.” Of course it was her fault. Breaking up a military marriage? Did she expect me to comfort her? SLAP! Before Elara could finish, I slapped her hard across the face. “This isn’t your place to speak.” Elara was stunned, clutching her cheek, her eyes instantly welling with tears. Ashworth and Brooks, who was still by the door, froze. They were both accustomed to my calm and professional demeanor, even when dealing with the most challenging trauma patients on the battlefield. Regaining her senses, Elara crumpled, falling into Ashworth’s arms. She sobbed uncontrollably, letting her makeup smudge onto Ashworth’s pristine military shirt. Ashworth, though his brow was slightly furrowed, patiently patted her back, his eyes filled with tenderness. Seeing this, I remembered. Because Ashworth loathed the smell of cosmetics, I had gone five years barefaced. He’d even insisted I wipe off my lip gloss for our wedding photos. “Are you insane? Do you know what you’re doing?” I met his furious gaze, my smile cold. “Doing what a General’s wife should.” “The Thorne family does not allow mistresses to waltz in.” Ashworth didn’t even glance at the divorce papers before telling Brooks to shred them. If he wouldn’t agree to a divorce, then I’d force his hand. No one knew better than me how to shatter his defenses. I kicked my military boots haphazardly in the entryway, poured live fish from the market into the bathtub, and even splashed sweet and sour sauce onto the cream-colored rug. The entire house was instantly filled with a fishy, greasy odor. Before, Ashworth would have replaced every single item in the house. Then he’d have soaked himself in disinfectant for hours. I sat in the chaotic living room, smirking, waiting for him to finally reach his breaking point and throw the divorce papers in my face. But until one in the morning, there was no sound from the front door. My phone screen lit up. Elara had sent me a photo from Ashworth’s phone. Ashworth sat on a greasy, shiny plastic stool at a night market stall, sharing a bowl of spicy noodle soup with Elara. [He’s willing to break all his principles for me.] My stomach churned. That year, I came back from a mission, carrying the faint scent of a street food stall. He banished me to the guest room for three days, then burned all the clothes I’d worn, claiming the smell disgusted him. So I’d endured five years of bland meals with him, to the point where the sight of red chili oil made me nauseous. But now, it seemed he could sit in a night market littered with bamboo skewers and grime, all for Elara. I sat awake all night, until my tears ran dry, then dialed the division’s political affairs office. “This is Major Harper. I demand you immediately reassign Comms Officer Elara Vance.” The line went silent for a few seconds, then a hesitant voice spoke. “General Thorne specifically instructed that any reassignment of Officer Vance must be personally approved by him.” My fingers, clutching the phone, felt ice-cold. The next second, Ashworth’s call came in. “Harper, how much longer are you going to keep this up?” “What, as a field officer, I’m not allowed to reassign a comms officer with questionable conduct?” “Not her.” “Harper, you need to reflect on your own behavior. Stop being so unreasonable.” They were the ones cheating, they were the ones who made mistakes, yet he thought I was the one who needed to reflect. But I was never one to just take things lying down. The next morning, I took a stack of photos and plastered them all over the bulletin boards in the military office area. The photos showed them passionately kissing in the jeep, entangled in the office, and feeding each other at a street food stall. By the time Ashworth arrived at the headquarters, it was too late. “I always knew there was something going on between that comms officer and General Thorne. I’ve seen them out alone multiple times.” “So young, yet so manipulative. Too bad she chose the wrong path.” “General Thorne is usually so morally upright, how could he… doesn’t he have a severe phobia of germs? Doesn’t he find her dirty?” Ashworth violently ripped the photos from the wall, his eyes practically spitting fire as he looked at me. “Harper, what’s the difference between you and those hysterical, screaming women now?” So he knew this kind of thing was disgraceful. If he knew, why did he do it? Everyone’s gaze, like sniper sights, zeroed in on Elara’s face. She clutched her face, hiding behind Ashworth. “Ash, I can’t show my face anymore. Maybe I should just request a transfer. Let’s not contact each other again.” I thought Ashworth, for the sake of appearances, would tell her to handle it discreetly. But he didn’t. In front of everyone, he took off his military jacket and draped it over Elara’s shoulders. His gaze swept across the crowd, sharp and menacing. “Had enough looking?” “From today, Elara Vance is reassigned to the operations department as an administrative assistant, and her stipend is increased by two grades.” “She is my person. Anyone who discusses this privately will face disciplinary action.” No one dared to speak again. They had careers to protect, and General Thorne was not someone they could afford to offend. I lost. The outcome of this, just as Ashworth had predicted, was me becoming a hysterical, irrational woman. As I walked out of the military headquarters building, Elara, who had been sobbing, finally whispered to me. “Thank you. Otherwise, Ash might have kept me hidden for who knows how long.” I returned, utterly dejected, to the city’s finest military general hospital. The psycho-trauma intervention clinic there was the only place that truly belonged to me. “Dr. Harper, about that…” My assistant called out to me, while the nurses nearby whispered amongst themselves. Though I was mentally prepared, pushing open the door still made my breath catch. The sofa was slashed with a knife, bookshelves were toppled, and broken glass and scattered files covered the floor. Ashworth had once pulled strings to secure the best equipment and a dedicated floor for me to practice here. Now, because of my defiance, he had personally destroyed it. I slowly knelt, picking up the scattered patient files. A familiar photograph slid out from the bottom of a folder. In the picture, Ashworth wore a hospital gown, his eyes vacant and terrified, curled tightly in a corner. Back then, his severe germ phobia caused him to violently vomit and tremble if anyone even approached him. Even the military doctors said he might never be able to serve again. I treated him for two years, helping him regain basic social functions, allowing the already highly-regarded officer to return to the force, where he rapidly rose to the rank of General. Ashworth’s grandfather immediately decided on our marriage. But why? Why should I be his permanent sacrifice, clinging to this already rotten marriage? The hospital director called me into his office. “While the expert panel deems you fit to work, the hospital cannot directly confront General Thorne.” “You should take some time off and rest.” I understood his predicament. Without argument, I took my new prescription and went home. Opening the door, I saw a pair of women’s short boots, not mine, neatly placed in the shoe rack. I chuckled self-deprecatingly. At Ashworth’s insistence, no one else had ever set foot in this house besides me and the cleaning lady who came once a week. Including our child. The year we married, I unexpectedly became pregnant. But Ashworth absolutely forbade me from having the baby. “I cannot tolerate something covered in blood and bodily fluids in my house.” “Besides, I’ve always disliked children, you know that.” Seeing him short of breath and trembling, I tried desperately to calm him, but in the struggle, I fell down the stairs. I lost the baby, and I almost bled to death on the operating table. From then on, after our monthly conjugal duties, he would personally watch me swallow birth control pills. Elara heard the door open and walked over, proudly caressing her flat stomach. “Sister, I’m pregnant. You must have heard, right?” “I don’t want my child to be born a bastard.” She leaned close to me, her voice light. “So, Harper, we’re actually on the same side.” “I want to move up, you want a divorce. We both get what we want.” I scoffed. “You’re mistaken. My desire for a divorce doesn’t mean I’d ever endorse a mistress like you taking my place.” “A mistress is always a mistress.” Perhaps my words stung her. The smile vanished from her face, replaced by anger. “What are you, anyway? Can’t keep your man, so you take it out on me?” “You actually think Ash isn’t divorcing you because he can’t bear to let you go? He just hasn’t sorted things out with his family yet.” “Men only let the woman they truly love carry their child.” “Your child? He didn’t want it, even when you conceived.” Her smile was sickening. I froze. The Thorne family had kept that incident under wraps. It was a permanent scar on my heart, and a scandal the military family preferred not to mention. But Ashworth had so easily told this woman. In my daze, the pill bottle in my pocket fell out. Elara picked it up and read the label, her sneer deepening. “What’s this? An aphrodisiac? You still haven’t given up on Ash?” “To be a woman who needs drugs to keep a man… how pathetic.” I stared at her, hatred churning in my gut. The next second, I fiercely twisted open the cap and tried to force the pills into her mouth. “This is an abortifacient. Specially prepared for you.” “You want to have a baby? I’ll make sure you can’t.” She gasped, her face turning ashen, struggling desperately. Suddenly, the door behind us opened, and she broke free from my grasp. “Ash! Sister, she tried to make me take some medicine!” “Our baby… my stomach hurts so much!” Ashworth shoved me to the ground. “What did you do to her?” Elara sobbed hysterically, though I knew she hadn’t swallowed a single pill. Ashworth glanced at the pills on the floor, his face changing drastically. After five years of marriage, he recognized the medication by osmosis. Paroxetine, contraindicated for pregnant women. He quickly scooped her up and rushed into the bathroom, helping her to induce vomiting. Vomit covered the pristine sink. The man who once demanded I disinfect a doorknob if my fingertip so much as brushed it. Was now clearing the grime from her lips with his bare hands, utterly unconcerned. After confirming she was alright, he emerged, his eyes like they wanted to devour me whole. “Harper, are you really so incapable of tolerating a child?” I tolerate her child? Who ever tolerated my child? I stared blankly at the pills on the floor. How ironic, a psychologist, suffering from depression. But I was fully aware of what I was doing. I wasn’t losing control; I was just consumed by hatred. I sat powerlessly on the bed, but habitually remembered that I hadn't changed into my loungewear. It seemed I had been so thoroughly trained by Ashworth that I constantly thought of his rules. But he wasn’t afraid anymore, was he? In a daze, Ashworth entered the room. Seeing my coat, he stopped two meters away from me. So he wasn’t unafraid. It was just that Elara was always the exception. “You’re sick? Since when?” Probably for a long time. Under the constant pressure of his monthly demands for reports, scrubbing, and disinfection. Under the crushing pain of losing our child. Under the despair of sensing his infidelity with nowhere to turn. I thought, since he was asking, he might show an ounce of concern. But instead, he just went on. “Your behavior just now makes you unsuitable to continue working in psychological intervention.” “Quit your job. You’ve always wanted a child, haven’t you? Elara’s child, I’ve decided.” “You just need to explain at the press conference that she’s your distant cousin, pregnant out of wedlock.” “And that you’re infertile, so you’ll adopt her child, registered under our name.” “We’ll live together, and you’ll raise the child together.” My fists clenched. I thought I must have misheard him. How could he utter such an outrageous request? “What if I refuse?” I bit the inside of my cheek. “Harper, can’t you be a little more considerate of the bigger picture? That’s my flesh and blood too.” I sneered. “If we divorce, she and the child can be legitimate.” Ashworth didn’t speak. After a long moment, he sighed. “If you don’t agree, I’ll have the hospital cut off your mother’s specialized nursing ward and her targeted medication. You decide.” “Don’t bother trying to contact my parents. They’re inspecting the border defenses, you won’t be able to reach them.” My mother’s late-stage kidney cancer relied entirely on the military general hospital’s cutting-edge treatments. He was cutting off my mother’s lifeline. I surrendered.
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