When Rodger woke up, he was the only one left in the bed.

He instinctively called out, "Nicole?"

There was no response.

Feeling a bit annoyed, he thought I was throwing a tantrum again. He got out of bed.

He assumed that I had gone grocery shopping. He walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge door, only to find it empty.

By noon, I still hadn't come home.

He called me, but he met with a cold, automated voice telling him my phone was turned off.

Rodger felt restless.

He complained to Jolene, who was nearby. "Did you make it too obvious about the pregnancy yesterday? Did she find out?"

Jolene felt a bit guilty but remained nonchalant. "So what if she did? Anyway, she can get pregnant again. She can't stop me from giving birth to your baby."

By evening, I hadn't come home.

Rodger was starting to panic.

Jolene clung to his arm and tried to comfort him. "She's just playing games. She was a housewife, and where could she possibly go? Just ignore her. She'll come crawling back in a couple of days."

Rodger forced himself to believe that.

He decided to handle it passively and not go to look for me.

The next day, Rodger was about to go to work. When he opened the closet to find some clothes, he stood there, stunned.

More than half of the wardrobe was empty.

All of my clothes, handbags, and shoes... were gone.

An overwhelming sense of emptiness engulfed him and caused him to panic.

He rushed out of the place and went to all the places I frequented, but he didn't find me.

He asked the housekeeper, and the latter replied with a voice carrying fear. "Nicole said she was going somewhere far away... I thought you knew it.

Miss Chapman says that she'd be the hostess of the house from now on, so I didn't dare say anything."

Rodger finally realized something was wrong.

He dashed back home frantically and headed straight for the safe in the study.

It was where I kept Jacob's ashes.

His hands trembled as he entered the password. He even failed several times.

Eventually, a date flashed in his mind. It was the date he had tried hard to forget.

He entered the date when Jacob died.

With a beep, the safe opened.

It was empty, and the black velvet box was gone.

In the center of the safe, a document lay quietly.

He picked it up. It was a divorce agreement, and I had signed it.

He turned it over and saw my delicate yet resolute handwriting. It struck him like a dagger to the heart. "Rodger, you once promised we'd grow old together. Now, I leave that promise to you, as I go to stay with Jacob. You and I will never meet again."

The black SUV drove away from the villa area and merged into the endless stream of city traffic.

I sat in the back seat and clutched a necklace tightly in my hand. It held Jacob's ashes.

A sealed manila envelope was passed to me by my fellow soldier from the front seat.

"Your codename is Falcon. This is your new identity and mission briefing. The destination was the notoriously deadly region in Meridiana known as the Tri-Zone of Death." From the moment you sign it, there will be no Nicole Norris Powell in the world.

I didn't hesitate before signing my name on the final page.

The city's neon lights blurred past, which I had once dreamed of seeing with Jacob.

Rodger used to say that he was busy and that we should wait until later.

Now, it no longer mattered.

I pressed the necklace to my heart and whispered, "Jacob, I am taking you away."

After I returned to the base, my performance in the first comprehensive test showed a decline across all metrics.

On the training ground, I struggled to carry a thirty-kilogram log.

Sweat stung my eyes painfully.

"Is this Falcon, the legendary fighter?" Someone mocked me from nearby.

A few new recruits stood in the shade, arms crossed, and watched as I was training.

The speaker was a young man with a buzz cut, and his eyes were full of disdain. "Wouldn't it be easier for a woman to focus on family life? When she's out in the field, she might hold back the team. It could be fatal."

Low laughter erupted around them.

I didn't stop, nor did I argue.

I just gritted my teeth, straightened my back once more, and took another heavy step.

They didn't know that I had no home anymore.

Nor did I have a family lift either.

I only had my life now.

From that day on, the training ground saw a new, tireless figure.

At four in the morning, I was at the obstacle course. At midnight, I was in the shooting range.

My training uniform was soaked with sweat and then dried by body heat, leaving patches of white salt stains.

The calluses on my hands were torn open, mixing blood with gun oil. I simply wrapped them with medical tape and continued to hold the gun.

I knew it wasn't just physical decline.

A sniper required absolute calm and steadiness.

But every time I closed my eyes, I saw Jacob's smiling face and the scene where Rodger turned away with Jolene in his arms.

I submitted a request for deep hypnosis therapy.

I lay on the white treatment bed and heard the steady "beep" of the machine ring in my ears.

The doctor stood beside me and confirmed for the last time. "I must warn you again that this is a permanent emotional detachment. It will cut away a part of your perception like a scalpel. You will forget some people and some things. This process is irreversible."

"Okay," I said, I closed my eyes and said, "You can begin."

The cold medication flowed through the IV into my veins.

My consciousness started to sink into a dark vortex.

All the memories I had suppressed broke free, flashing madly in my mind.

Jacob reached out his hands and called out in his sweet voice. "Mommy, hold me."

Rodger pushed me and Jacob towards the kidnappers while he was holding Jolene tightly.

I was on my knees and watched Jolene paint with Jacob's ashes mixed into the painting.

Rodger stood behind me and said, Nicole, what are you going crazy about?"

The data on the hypnosis machine fluctuated violently, and it emitted a piercing alarm.

A warm tear slid down my cheek and disappeared into my hairline.

When the lights came back on, I slowly sat up from the treatment bed.

It felt like a large part of my mind had been emptied, leaving a void, but my heart no longer ached.

I no longer had nightmares, nor did I suffer from insomnia.

My hands became as steady as a rock once more.

I returned to the sniper training range and raised the gun.

Five shots rang out, almost as one.

The target monitor announced. "Five shots, all hit the bulls-eye."

In the center, there was only a single bullet hole.

The instructor picked up my psychological assessment report and shooting scores. He studied them for a long while.

He looked up, and his eyes were filled with emotions I couldn't decipher.

He extended his hand to me and said, "Welcome back, Falcon."

During the jungle combat exercise, I was the sniper and lay hidden in a swamp for a full forty-eight hours.

The rain washed over me, and mud clung to my skin.

A colorful, venomous snake slithered over my camouflage paint. Its cold tongue flicked near my eyelid.

I didn't move. Nor did I blink my eyes.

When the exercise's end signal flares lit up the sky, I rose from the mire and "eliminated" the opposing force's commander at the designated spot.

The teammate who had once mocked me became a "prisoner," and I "rescued" him.

He looked at my mud-covered body, at my eyes devoid of emotion. The disdain and mockery on his face vanished, replaced by only respect.

No one dared to speak a word.

The previous version of me, who once lived a quiet domestic life, was gone.

The one who survived was Falcon.