Chapter 5 The words roared in her chest, begging to be spoken. She bit down until she tasted iron and said nothing. Telling a man who had no room for her in his heart would only make her seem pathetic. She summoned everything left in her and repeated, "I. Won't. Sign." Gideon stared at her stubborn, unyielding face. His patience burned away. He stepped to the doorway and snapped to the MP at the door, "Tell the hospital to suspend her meds and treatment. When she comes to her senses and signs, resume them." He slammed the door behind him. Angela's eyes went wide. Tears spilled hot and fast. He would threaten her life and health to free Elaine. The wounds began to scream without the painkillers, every nerve ending lit like a nest of needles. Fever washed her in chills until her teeth knocked together. At first she gritted through it. Then the pain and the bleakness rose like a tide and drowned her. In the empty room, she finally broke and sobbed, raw and helpless. She pressed the call button. When the nurse hurried in, Angela's cheeks were slick and her breath came thin. "Please... call Gideon Holt. I'll sign. I'll sign." He came quickly, cold as ever. He looked down at the wreck of a woman on the bed-fragile, shaking, crying so hard she could barely see. Something sharp pricked the corner of his heart, an unwelcome flicker of feeling. He almost asked if she was all right. But what came out was a chill rebuke: "If you'd listened sooner, you wouldn't have suffered." Angela's hands trembled so badly she could hardly hold the pen. Tears fell in bright drops, blurring the ink on that humiliating affidavit. She signed anyway, stroke by stroke, as if carving lines into her own heart. Gideon took the document with obvious relief, like a task finally checked off, and turned to go-clearly in a hurry to fetch Elaine. Angela stared at the doorway's empty frame until it blurred. Her chest felt hollowed out, the world reduced to a lightless pit. She spent the next few days in the hospital alone. The aches in her body eased by degrees; the emptiness in her chest only widened. The day she was discharged, the sky hung low and gray, a perfect match for her mood. She did not expect Gideon to come pick her up. Once, she would have lit up at the sight, certain it meant the clouds had parted at last. Now, looking at his handsome, distant profile, she felt nothing but a dead, dry field inside her. Halfway down the road, Angela realized they weren't headed back to base family housing. "Where are we going?" she asked, voice rough. Hands steady on the wheel, eyes on the road, Gideon answered without inflection, "To the commissary. It's your birthday. I'm buying you something." Her birthday. The irony hit so hard it was almost funny. In all their married years, he had never once remembered. She had circled the date on the calendar, dropped hints, even said it outright. He'd only ever grunted and moved on. Now now, when her heart was ash and she was planning to leave-he remembered. Florence Florence is a passionate reader who finds joy in long drives on rainy days. She's also a fan of Italian makeup tutorials, blending beauty and elegance into her everyday life.