I Left The General Took My Life

The day they lowered Neil's tiny casket into the ground, I didn't just bury my son. I buried the woman Garrett Blackwood used to despise.

After Neil died, I methodically shed every habit my Major General husband had found irritating.

He started staying out late; I stopped asking where.

He left his phone on the counter, full of explicit, flirtatious texts; I kept my eyes on my book.

Even the day of the funeral, when he sent a detached, "Emergency meeting. Can't break away," I accepted it with unnerving calm, organizing the entire service alone.

His aide, a young man named Jensen, watched my swollen, bloodshot eyes and leaned in to whisper.

"Colonel Blackwood really couldn't get out of this one, ma'am. He promised he'd come straight here when it's done. He might still catch the last prayer."

I didn't answer. I just placed my childs ashes into the small, waiting crypt.

Just as I was about to signal the crew to seal the vault, Garrett's armored vehicle roared into the cemetery. He was soaking wet, still in his fatigues, and he hadn't even killed the engine.

"Quinn! Why didn't you wait for me? Neil was my son too!"

My voice was flat, an airless expanse. "Your duties are demanding, Garrett. Neil would understand."

My excessive compliance seemed to irritate him more than any scream could have. He opened his mouth to argue, but the murmuring of the small military crowd froze him in place.

"Colonel Blackwood is really something for Tina Price, isn't he? Rushed the specialty meds over the second he heard her K9 was sick. Didn't even check on his own son."

"Yeah, only showed up for the funeral once Tina's dog was stable."

Garrett's hands clenched at his sides. He watched me with sharp, defensive eyes, bracing for the hysterical outburst he expected, the one he had always weaponized against me.

But my eyelashes didn't even tremble. I simply took the shovel and quietly covered the crypt with the last clod of earth.

"Tina and I are just comrades! I swear, I only see her as a little sister! And Neils death was a tragic accident!"

I nodded, already walking toward my car.

"I know. The wind is picking up. You should head back to the base."

Garrett hurried after me and grabbed my arm. "If you're angry, take it out on me. Scream. Hit me. Anything but this cold shoulder."

I looked at him with genuine curiosity. He used to despise my emotional outbursts, lecturing me that a military spouse must be rational and disciplined. Now that I was calm and controlled, he found me "cold."

As I was about to pull my hand free, his secure communication device vibrated. Garrett's brow furrowed, but he answered the call.

"I'm busy. Can this wait until tomorrow?"

A woman's voice, thick with tears, came through the tiny speaker. "Garrett, Ragnar's having another seizure... could you please come check on him?" Ragnar was Tina's K9.

Garrett glanced at me. Seeing no reaction, he instantly capitulated.

"Okay. I'm on my way."

He hung up, and I pulled the car door open for myself. I hadn't secured my footing, and I stumbled slightly.

"Watch it!"

He reached out and steadied me with a firm grip. I gently pushed his hand away.

"Go on. A K9 is a combat partner. You should see to him. It's the right thing to do. Drive safe." I even reached in and handed him his uniform cap.

Garrett took the cap, a strange, sharp pang hitting his chest. He got into his vehicle, but before pulling away, he looked at me.

"I'll be home for dinner tonight."

"Good. I'll wait for you."

Garrett did not come home.

I cooked three dishes and a soup. I waited from dusk until late into the night. I heated and reheated the meal until, finally, I dumped it all into the compost bin.

At two in the morning, Tina updated her social media.

[With you here, Im afraid of nothing. Thank you for being my rock.]

The photo was a candid shot of Garrett in profile, kneeling to give the K9 an injection. His brow was knitted in intense concentration, but his movements were tender.

I hit 'like.'

Then, I connected to my secure channel.

"Dad, the divorce papers will be finalized in seven days. About the National Security Advisor you mentioned... I'm willing to meet him."

For the next week, I practically lived at the Research Institute, trying to drown my numbness in data and diagnostics.

My colleagues avoided my eyes. Whispers trailed me in the corridor.

"Quinn's an iron woman... back to work the day after her son's funeral."

I ignored them, continuing to calibrate parameters.

Tina walked past, carrying a thermos, and stopped by my workstation.

"Quinn, I'm so sorry for your loss. Try not to push yourself so hard."

Her voice was low, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

"If only someone had been more attentive that day, maybe your son could have been saved..."

I tightened my grip on the electronic stylus. Garrett had never explained swapping Neil's specialty medication. Instead, he let the rumor fester, effectively pushing the blame onto me.

That afternoon, during the Bases mandatory meeting, Garretts father, the General, slammed a file onto the conference table.

"Quinn Blackwood! Don't think your family name gives you carte blanche to be this reckless!"

"You pulled a three-day marathon session for a breakthrough experiment while your child was burning up with fever! How did my son marry such a cold-blooded woman!"

I looked at Garrett. He deliberately avoided my gaze.

"Dad, about this..."

"Silence!" The General rose, towering over the table. "This is what happens when you indulge her!"

He strode toward me, then raised his hand and struck me across the face.

"That's the first slap, for killing my grandson!"

I staggered backward, my cheek stinging. A heavy silence fell over the room. Behind the General, I saw Tina Price struggling to suppress a satisfied smirk.

"And that's the second," he said, raising his hand again. "For costing the Base a critical research partnership!"

"The lead representative heard you neglected your own flesh and blood. They called our family heartless and pulled all funding this morning!"

The second blow was heavier. My ears rang, and I tasted iron.

Garrett finally jumped out of his chair.

"Dad!"

"What, are you still defending her?"

Garrett moved in front of me. "To hit her, you have to go through me."

The General was shaking with fury, his finger nearly touching my nose.

"Look at this! Garrett is still covering for you!"

"I've indulged you too much, Quinn! You've become a threat to military discipline!"

The third slap never landed, but my vision went black. I collapsed.

I woke up in the Base clinic. Garrett was sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Tina... she grew up on a frontier outpost. Besides me, all she had was Ragnar." He paused. "Can you just overlook it this one time? Please?"

I closed my eyes.

"Quinn, let's start over. We'll have another child. I'll give you any compensation you want."

I finally turned to him, my throat dry.

"What if I say no?"

He froze, his brows tightening.

"Don't be dramatic."

I felt the phantom ache on my cheek.

"I'm not being dramatic. I just want to know"

"Do I still have the right to say no?"

His last thread of patience snapped.

"Rest up. I'll come back later."

He left quickly. As the door swung shut, I heard Tinas voice:

"Garrett, is Quinn okay? This is all my fault for asking you to bring the medication..."

Garretts voice instantly softened.

"It's not your fault, Tina. Shes the one spiraling."

I stared at the ceiling, and silent, effortless tears tracked down my temples and into the pillow. I thought I had cried them all out when my son died.

The next day, I was discharged. A serviceman drove me to the Base housing complex.

I walked in and saw Tina sitting in the living room, chatting and laughing easily with Garrett's parents. Ragnar, the K9, was lying at her feet. Hanging from his collar was the small, engraved military tag my son used to cherish.

I had polished that tag myself when Neil turned one. His name was carved on the back. After he died, I burned all his toys and clothes, but I'd kept that tag. It was my only tangible memory.

"Quinn is back!" Tina stood up right away.

"Ragnar just loves this tag. Garrett said Neil didn't need it anymore, so he let Ragnar wear it for a bit."

I didn't speak. I walked over and gently tugged the tag off the K9s collar. Startled, Ragnar snapped, sinking his teeth into the back of my hand. Blood welled up instantly.

"Quinn! What the hell are you doing?" Mrs. Blackwood rushed over. "It's just a piece of metal! Why are you fighting with a dog?"

"Yes, Quinn. If you're upset, I apologize. Please don't scare Ragnar."

I clutched the tag tightly, blood oozing between my fingers.

Garrett walked in just then. Seeing the scene, his face hardened.

"What's the drama now?"

Tina immediately stepped forward. "It's my fault, Garrett. I shouldn't have given Ragnar the tag."

Garrett looked at me, his eyes full of reprimand.

"It's a dog tag. You gave it away. Why are you making such a scene?"

He snatched the tag from my bleeding hand and clipped it back onto the K9s collar.

"The world doesn't revolve around you, Quinn!"

I looked at the transfer orders tucked away in my purse. I turned my back on them and walked upstairs.

The next day, I went to the Institute. My assistant said the research partner's representative was in the conference room, demanding an explanation from me personally.

I grabbed my briefing notes and pushed the door open. Representative Rebecca Shaw, the lead negotiator, looked at me and her face turned cold.

"CTO Zhou, I hear you neglected your son to the point of death just to run an experiment? We are hesitant to partner with such a cold-blooded researcher."

I stood straight. "Representative Shaw, the situation that day was..."

"The situation is irrelevant," she cut me off, holding up a hand. "The entire system knows the story nowthat you put your career first and let your own flesh and blood die for a project. I am a mother. I can't in good conscience work with someone so heartless."

The officers around the table muttered among themselves. Garrett sat to the left, silent.

I took a deep breath. "How would you like to resolve this, Representative?"

She slid a glass of clear liquor toward me. "Drink this. Apologize publicly and say that you failed as a mother. We'll call it even."

My doctor had strictly forbidden alcohol due to a severe stomach condition. I looked at Garrett. He averted his eyes, yet again.

"The Representative is giving you an out, Quinn. Take it."

My hands were shaking as I picked up the glass. The entire room was waiting for the show. Behind Garrett, Tina wore a knowing smile.

The first sip burned my throat.

The second made my vision blur.

When I finished the last drop, I inverted the empty glass on the table.

"I apologize. I was wrong."

Representative Shaw finally smiled. "Very well, CTO Zhou."

I rushed into the restroom, throwing up until I was dry-heaving. Blood mixed with the liquor on the porcelain sink. I gripped the edge, my legs too weak to hold me.

Garrett followed me in, his face tight. "Are you alright?"

I rinsed my mouth. "I'm fine."

"You shouldn't have pushed yourself if you can't hold your liquor."

"Didn't you tell me to drink it?"

He choked on the words. He reached out to wipe the blood from my mouth. I took half a step back.

"Colonel Blackwood, this is a Base facility. Be mindful of appearances."

His hand froze in the air.

That afternoon, the General summoned me to his study. A new agreement was spread out on his desk.

"You will automatically waive all pension and indemnity rights related to Neil."

"Furthermore, your researcher status will be revoked. The Blackwood family will not support idlers."

I had been wondering how to get Garrett to sign the divorce papers. This was unexpectedly convenient.

Just as the pen was about to hit the paper, Garrett burst in.

"Dad! Don't sign that!"

"What, still protecting her?"

Garrett looked at me, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes, and his throat worked hard.

"Tina is pregnant. It's mine."

The pen slipped from my fingers, leaving a long, dark streak across the document.

The General froze, then erupted in ecstatic joy.

"Are you serious?!"

"Just confirmed. Two months."

"This child was conceived just before Neil passed... it must be providence!"

Tina appeared in the doorway. "Quinn, I'm so sorry."

The General had already forgotten me. He looked between Garrett and Tina.

"Wonderful! Wonderful!"

"Two months? Garrett, you finally did something right!"

I stood still, a ringing sound in my ears. Two months. That was just over two months ago, right before Neil was gone.

Now I understood.

Garrett walked over, trying to embrace me. "We can raise this child together. It can be ours, okay?"

I looked at him, feeling an overwhelming, terrifying sense of unfamiliarity.

The three of them excitedly discussed the new life, none of them noticing I quietly slipped the agreement off the desk.

That night, I packed a single suitcase. I had burned all of Neil's photos, keeping only a micro-negative embedded in my old ID tag. The one military tagI had to get it back.

As I left my bedroom, I saw Tina standing by what used to be my sons room. The room was empty. She was instructing a serviceman to move in K9 training equipment.

"This will be Ragnar's new activity room," she announced. She saw me and gave a sickly sweet smile. "You don't mind, do you, Quinn? Garrett said it was just sitting empty."

I looked at the small, engraved tag she had tossed carelessly into the waste bin. My knuckles turned white.

"Oh, Quinn, there was one thing I never told you."

"Don't blame Garrett. Neil and Ragnar had seizures at the same time. The vet said both needed the drug immediately."

My body went cold. Garrett had told me he hadn't known about Neil's seizure.

"Garrett said Ragnar was bigger and breathing heavier, so he saved him first."

"Neil was five years old. He would definitely hold on."

It wasn't that he was too late.

It was that he chose to let go.

I wiped away the last bit of moisture from my eyes, retrieved the tag from the trash, and walked out without a word.

When Garrett returned home, he was carrying a box from my favorite old-school bakery.

"Quinn, we need to talk this through"

But all he saw was an empty living room and the document on the dining table.

The Divorce Report. Both signatures were already complete.

The next second, the pastry box slipped from Garrett's hand, and he staggered backward, collapsing.