Chapter 8 - The Pentagon Aftermath
Two weeks had passed since the disastrous weekend in Virginia. The wedding had happened—Lucas and Chloe had tied the knot, and true to his word, Lucas had explicitly uninvited our mother from the reception dinner after the ceremony, spending the evening thanking me profusely over a secure video call.
My parents had gone completely silent. No emails, no frantic voicemails, no passive-aggressive text messages. For the first time in my life, my phone was peaceful.
Right now, I sat in Alexander’s sprawling, sunlit office at the Pentagon. Sunlight poured through the reinforced glass windows, illuminating rows of framed commendations, historical maps, and photographs of our wedding day in Arlington—a quiet, beautiful ceremony attended only by my closest military colleagues and Alexander's closest friends.
I was wearing my brand-new, flawlessly tailored Class A Army service uniform, the three gold-bordered stripes of a Major gleaming proudly on my sleeves, and my ribbons pinned neatly over my heart.
The door opened, and Alexander walked in carrying two cups of black coffee. He set one down on my desk, leaned over, and pressed a tender kiss to the top of my head.
"Looking sharp, Major Carter," he murmured with a warm smile. "How’s the trauma ward schedule looking this week?"
"Brutal," I admitted, taking a sip of the hot coffee. "Seventy-hour rotation starting tomorrow at Walter Reed. But I wouldn't trade it for the world."
Alexander pulled up a chair beside my desk, sitting close. "Your replacement uniform arrived from quartermaster supply this morning, fully inspected and signed off."
"Thank you, General," I teased, giving him a playful salute. "I suppose I owe you one."
"Oh, you owe me a lot more than one, Major," he laughed softly, taking my hand. "Starting with a quiet weekend away from Virginia, politicians, and family drama."
Just then, my phone buzzed on the desk. I glanced down at the screen. It was an unfamiliar local number from Virginia.
I stared at it for a moment, my finger hovering over the screen.
Alexander noticed the change in my posture. He didn't look at the phone, but his grip on my hand tightened supportively. "Do you want me to block it?"
I smiled, feeling a profound sense of closure and inner peace wash over me. For twelve years, I had jumped through hoops trying to earn my parents' approval, letting their opinions dictate my self-worth. Now, wearing my uniform with pride, married to a man who revered my strength and shared my dedication, their opinions didn't even register as noise.
May you like
I swiped the screen, declining the call, and tossed the phone face down on the desk.
"No, Alexander," I said, leaning back in my chair with a bright, genuine smile. "Let it ring to voicemail. I’m off duty."
