What Love Cost Me

The conversation stopped short when I entered the room.

George was shocked to see me there. When he came to his senses, he shot me a displeased look.

"Why are you here? The frontline lacks manpower. Showing up here right now means you're absent without leave."

When he noticed my teary eyes, he looked away, asking dryly, "How much have you heard?"

He was always serious about his job. He wouldn't allow room for error.

His principle applied to me as well.

When I was first sent to war five years ago, I had a few brushes with death.

At that time, I missed him like crazy.

After going through layers of bureaucratic approval, I hopped on an illegal vehicle and returned to Kingsfield from the border. By the time I arrived, I had worn through several pairs of shoes.

All I wanted was to see him.

When I went home with giddy excitement, George pushed me away.

Without the slightest concern for how exhausted or disheveled I looked, he coldly rebuked me. "Ivy, you've violated the rules! If it happens again, I'll have to report this, you being my wife or not."

If I hadn't overheard him being the one responsible for holding my application over the past five years, and his promise to mentor Mia, I would never have imagined him being a selfish person.

I calmly put two documents on the table. "These are the supporting documents for my transfer request. I believe five years of experience qualify me for the transfer."

He pinched the bridge of his nose tiredly. "Don't be childish. It is written in black and white on the notice that spouses aren't allowed to work in the headquarters together. It's the management's decision. Please don't make this hard for me."

Sure, we were still a married couple.

He was the highly respected department head at the hospital, a man who managed hundreds of staff. Even the fountain pen in his pocket cost tens of thousands.

And I—his wife—had answered his call for help without hesitation. I had gone to the battlefield and spent five years risking my life.

The chilblains on my hands burned every winter. My clothes had been washed so many times that the color had nearly faded away.

I endured every challenge. I didn't understand how my request could put him in a difficult situation.

"No need to feel pressured." I drew out the documents under the application and pushed them toward him. I firmly announced, "Let's get a divorce. If we can't change the policy, we can change our relationship status."

He was stunned. His gaze flickered to me in disbelief. "Ivy, is our marriage a joke to you?"