"Captain Ashby lost her memory. She insists the clinic caretaker, Dylan Foster, is her husband and refuses to come with us. But we've already contacted the army's top neurosurgeons. We can schedule her treatments as early as next week to help her remember you."The conversation was identical to the one from my previous life when I first found Eleanor Ashby.Only this time, the ecstatic joy and bitter resentment were gone, replaced by total serenity.I shook my head, declining the offer, and did two things afterward.First, I submitted a long-term deployment request to the medical corps, volunteering for the war-torn regions of Irvia.Second, I took the approved deployment papers and went to call off the engagement, returning a ring polished from a bullet casing.It was the engagement ring Eleanor had made at the border years ago. She hadn't even had the chance to slip it onto my finger.Eleanor's mother, Rosalie Quinn, clutched my hands, refusing to let go, her tears soaking her
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