Chapter 13 - The General’s Dinner
Back in Germany, evening had settled over the quiet hills surrounding Landstuhl.
The night shift had taken over the trauma wards, and the hospital had grown into a steady, peaceful hum of muted monitors and soft footsteps.
Alexander and I sat in our small, tastefully furnished base quarters overlooking the distant valley lights.
The aroma of freshly brewed coffee and traditional German pastries filled the kitchen.
Alexander sat at the dining table, reviewing a secure encrypted dispatch from the Pentagon regarding upcoming medical logistics deployments across Eastern Europe.
I walked over, setting a cup of coffee beside his elbow, and leaned over to read the header over his shoulder.
“Looks like your logistics network is expanding again, General,” I murmured, resting my hand on his broad shoulder.
Alexander looked up, setting his stylus down and capturing my hand in his, pulling me gently onto his lap.
“It always is,” he smiled, wrapping his arms around my waist.
“Which is why I’m planning to take three days of accrued leave next month.”
“Leave?” I raised an eyebrow, surprised.
“Where to?”
“Wherever you want,” Alexander said simply.
“Switzerland, the Amalfi coast, or just locking ourselves inside a quiet cabin in the Black Forest with no phones and no secure comms.”
I laughed, leaning my head against his chest.
“A cabin in the Black Forest sounds like paradise.”
“Just us?”
“Just us,” he confirmed softly.
“No high-society dinners.”
“No corporate mergers disguised as weddings.”
“No family members bringing kitchen shears to things they don't understand.”
A warm wave of peace washed over me at his words.
For years, I had carried the invisible burden of trying to fix a broken family dynamic—trying to prove to people who were fundamentally incapable of loving anything outside their own reflection that I was worthy of respect.
I had thought that if I just worked hard enough, achieved enough, and endured enough, my parents would finally look at me with pride instead of embarrassment.
Meeting Alexander had shattered that illusion forever.
He hadn't loved me because I fit into my mother’s mold.
He loved me precisely because I had broken out of it.
“You know,” I whispered, looking up into his steady gray eyes.
“When Mom cut up my uniform, I thought it was the worst thing that could possibly happen.”
“It felt like she was trying to erase everything I had worked for.”
“She wasn't erasing your achievements, Emily,” Alexander said, his voice turning fierce and protective.
“She was just exposing her own irrelevance.”
“She tried to burn down your past because she was terrified of your future.”
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“And she paid the price for it.”
“And we,” I added, smiling softly, “are finally home.”
