Chapter 1: The Night He Chose Her

Gavin was overseas on business when everything went sideways—a terrorist attack, the kind that splinters lives in a single headline.

My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. The screen lit up again and again, its glow stabbing through the dark like an emergency beacon. It felt like everyone I’d ever known was dialing me—one call after another, relentless as a fire alarm.

My mother-in-law told me she and my father-in-law were holed up at the American embassy, pacing circles on the tile floor, expecting me to somehow talk the suits into springing Gavin free. Their voices were tight, like they thought I’d march into the embassy in heels and a blazer and somehow fix the mess.

Even my dad, who hadn’t spoken to me since I was twenty, called out of the blue. Hearing his voice again felt like a ghost had slipped into my living room.

He said he had a couple of old friends at the embassy—maybe military, maybe just bureaucrats, I never knew—and he’d see if he could pull some strings to get Gavin shipped home safely.

Even my best friend, Gavin’s brothers, coworkers, and the neighbors from down the hall all kept calling, their voices hushed but desperate, all wanting an update. It was like the whole block was holding its breath, waiting for me to be the one with answers.

Each time I pressed end, my thumb felt a little more numb. I didn’t let myself cry.

Because the truth was, when Gavin saw the news that his ex-girlfriend—a war correspondent—was in the middle of a terrorist attack, he didn’t pause for a second. He just bolted, leaving his wife and our newborn daughter behind, and got on the next flight out to see if she was safe. I remember every detail of that night like it was branded into my skin.

At that moment, I was hunched over in the living room, holding my belly, water soaking through my pajama pants, and I looked up at Gavin and asked him, plain as day:

"Are you really going to leave your wife and daughter to fly to that war-torn country? If you go, Gavin, I’m not taking responsibility for anything that happens to you."

I remembered the night I promised him forever, how sure I’d been. Now, my words felt like a door slamming shut.

He didn’t answer, but the way his suitcase thumped against the front door as he rushed out—well, that told me everything I needed to know. The sound echoed through the house, sharp and final.

So if he’s so determined to put himself in danger, why should it fall on me to save him now?