Two days before launch, an anonymous tip destroyed everything. "Ava Thorne has concealed a history of mental illness. She's unfit for the mission." Just like that, my flight clearance vanished. Three years in a psychiatric facility followed—three years of hell while my husband Ethan climbed the ranks at The Agency, earning medals and promotions. When he finally came to collect me, his smile was practiced. Professional. "I had no choice, Ava. Politics, you know? But I took a demotion to bring you home. We can start over." I spent the next thirty years tiptoeing around our kitchen, careful not to remind him of the career he'd "sacrificed" for me. I cooked his meals. Pressed his shirts. Made myself small. Until the day I died, and our daughter found the letters. The first was the anonymous tip that had destroyed my career. In Ethan's handwriting. The others were worse—thirty years of correspondence between my husband and Sera Vance, the widow. The woman whose husband had died saving Ethan and my brother Leo during a classified operation. In the letters, Ethan confessed everything. How he'd forged the psychiatric evaluation. How he'd slipped it into my mission application. How he'd sent me to that facility to clear the way for Sera—because her dead husband had made him promise to "take care of her." The glass slipped from my hand, shattering. Each shard felt like it was piercing my heart. I should have been the one who went to space. Instead, Ethan had sacrificed me for another woman. I died that night, drowning in rage and grief. When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in our apartment. The calendar read two days before the mission selection deadline. This time, when Ethan reached for my application packet, I pulled it back. --- His grip tightened on the folder, knuckles going white. "Babe, we agreed. You rest, I handle the paperwork." "It's my job. I can do it myself." My hand trembled as I clutched the documents. Last time, I'd trusted him completely. Last time, I'd handed him everything without a second thought. That trust had cost me my entire life. "I just remembered—I need to double-check something." I forced my voice steady. "I'll submit it myself tomorrow." Something flickered across his face. Panic? Guilt? "What did you forget? I can help." He reached for the folder again. I locked it in my desk drawer, key clutched tight in my palm. "It's fine. Can you check on the soup in the kitchen?" The moment he left, I tore open the packet. There it was. Psychiatric Evaluation Form. Patient: Ava Thorne. Diagnosis: Undisclosed psychotic disorder with delusional episodes. Every word was a lie. Every signature was forged. My vision blurred. It was real. All of it was real. Ethan returned with soup, concern painted on his face like a mask. "Honey, you're crying. What's wrong?" I let him pull me into his arms, felt his heartbeat against my cheek. Steady. Calm. The heartbeat of a man who'd planned my destruction. "You wanted to switch partners, right?" The words came out flat. "For the mission training?" Last time, I'd fought him on this for months. We'd been partners for ten years—the longest-running team at The Agency. I'd refused to let another woman take my place at his side. This time, I knew the truth. If I didn't agree to the switch now, I'd be committed in two weeks. "You... you're okay with it?" His whole face lit up. "Yeah. I'm okay with it." He already had the paperwork ready. Had probably been carrying it around for weeks, waiting for me to cave. I signed without reading it. Watched joy spread across his face like sunrise. "God, Ava. You're the best wife a guy could ask for." He kissed my forehead. "Don't worry—I'll still look out for you at The Agency." The lie tasted like copper in my mouth. He didn't even wait for me to respond. Just grabbed his keys and practically ran for the door, already pulling out his phone. "Sera? Hey, yeah—she said yes. We can finally—" I burned the fake psychiatric report in the kitchen sink. Watched it curl and blacken until nothing remained but ash. Then I filled out a new application. This time, I'd submit it myself. This time, no one would stop me from going to space.
My desk had been cleared out overnight. Everything I owned—photos, files, the coffee mug Leo had given me—sat in a cardboard box in the bullpen. My private office, the one I'd earned after ten years of partnership with Ethan, now belonged to Sera Vance. She sat at my desk wearing Ethan's jacket. Eating the breakfast sandwich he used to make for me. This was him "looking out for me." Lily from Engineering saw my face and stood up, fists clenched. "This is bullshit. I'm going to—" "Don't." I caught his arm. "I agreed to end the partnership. The office was part of the deal." "That doesn't make it right." No. It didn't. But I had bigger problems than office politics. That afternoon, I showed up for advanced training and found my name had been moved to Sera's basic certification group. Ethan's doing. Obviously. I marched straight to his training bay. Found him carrying Sera out of the simulation pod, her body limp in his arms. "Easy, easy. I pushed you too hard today." He cradled her against his chest, opening a water bottle with his teeth. "Here, drink." She took a delicate sip, then touched his cheek. "I don't mind the pain. As long as I get to go to space with you." They didn't notice me for a full thirty seconds. When Ethan finally looked up, his hand jerked away from Sera's waist. "Ava. Shit. This isn't—Sera wasn't feeling well. As her trainer, I was just—" "Why did you move me to basic training?" Sera's expression shifted. The helpless damsel act vanished, replaced by something cold and sharp. "Sorry about that. Ethan just cares about me so much." "You must be so frustrated," she continued, voice dripping fake sympathy. "Maybe you should stop making things difficult for him. He's exhausted." I'd heard this routine before. Sera played innocent for Ethan while her eyes promised war. "Answer the question," I said to Ethan. "Why the transfer?” ” Final selection is in three weeks. Are you trying to tank my chances?" "No! God, no." He ran a hand through his hair. "You've been stressed, Ava. I thought some basic training might help you decompress." Sera nodded eagerly. "He's just trying to help. I'm not trying to take your spot, I swear. It's just that people in my old group were so mean to me, and Ethan couldn't stand seeing me hurt." I almost laughed. Would have, if rage hadn't been choking me. Ethan had watched me get screamed at by instructors for five straight years. Watched me scrub toilets as punishment for minor infractions. Watched other trainees lock me in equipment closets. His response then? "If you worked harder, they wouldn't pick on you." But two weeks of Sera getting constructive criticism, and suddenly he was reorganizing training rosters. "Sera doesn't have the physical conditioning for advanced training," I said. "Moving her up means someone else gets cut. That someone is me." Sera's eyes welled with tears. "I knew this would happen. Everyone thinks I'm stealing opportunities. I should just go back to basic." She stumbled toward the door. Ethan caught her, pulled her close. "You're not going anywhere," he said, glaring at me. "That was a low blow, Ava. Even for you." "Excuse me?" "You got into this program because I voucher for you. Don't act like you earned this spot on your own merit." The words hit like a physical blow. "My decision stands," Ethan continued. "You clearly need the attitude adjustment. Stay in basic training until you learn some humility."
Watch? https://cps-front.novelix.live/app-api/ext/new/20260619C8Oe6yyIKP ? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "Novelix" app ? search for "ni522636", and watch the full series ✨! #Novelix