I Survived War, but Not My First Love

Being a war correspondent, I spend all my time searching for any trace of Damian Calloway. Through countless close brushes with death, only one thought keeps me going—I want to die by his side. Four years later, I receive a phone call from him. "Evelyn, Camille finally forgave you," Damian says, his voice coming through the receiver with jarring clarity. In the background, the peaceful, mundane sounds of life drift through the line, a stark contrast to the chaotic battlefield around me. I freeze. "What are you talking about?" Damian chuckles. "I left the military a long time ago. I've been back home with Camille this whole time. You made her cry before you left, and she has a temper. She wanted to teach you a lesson, but she's over it now, so you can come home and marry me." The wedding date we decided on is exactly one month away. It turns out that he has been keeping track of the dates the entire time, treating the danger I survive daily as if it's a joke. When I step into the terminal, his friends don't even bother hiding their smirks. "Look at her," one of them mutters. "She's a total simp. As if she could actually stay mad." "One phone call from Damian, and she drops everything to fly across the world—" Just then, everyone freezes. The smile vanishes from Damian's face as every eye locks onto the unfamiliar wedding ring on my finger. Chapter 1 The diamond wasn't huge, but it caught the light perfectly. It was bright enough to instantly shut every single one of them up. The domestic arrivals terminal was packed and full of life, which made their frozen, awkward expressions stick out like a sore thumb in the middle of the crowd. Clutching my bags, I walked right past airport security without a hint of emotion. The moment I got close, Damian Calloway grabbed my wrist with a frown, narrowing his eyes at the ring on my finger. It wasn't the one he gave me. Then again, when he finally told me we were getting hitched, he did it casually over a phone call. "Evelyn, are you really that desperate to get married?" Damian scoffed. A sudden, mocking smirk spread across his face as a thought struck him. "Did you seriously buy yourself a ring? "Alright, look, I get it. I know I'm all you think about. Where's the matching men's band? Let's see it." The moment the words left his mouth, his buddies beside him instantly burst into laughter. "Oh, she bought it herself? Figures. Damian's been missing for the last few years, so she probably needed a little security blanket to cope." "Holy crap, she's wearing a wedding ring while waiting around for Damian? Talk about a stage-five clinger." "Clinger? That's not a clinger. She's a total simp!" I looked up, casting a freezing glare at Damian. He merely shrugged, raising an eyebrow. "What? It's the truth. Don't get mad just because people are calling you out." "Whatever. Let's drop it," he added. "You did have a rough time holding down the fort for me these past few years. Let's get moving. The wedding's set for tomorrow." Tomorrow was my 28th birthday. My footsteps faltered for a second. I remembered back when Damian and I were still together, I had told him, "My mom married my dad when she was 28 years old, and my sister got married at that age, too. Both of them ended up incredibly happy. I guess I'm just superstitious like that." Back then, Damian had scooped me up into his arms with a laugh. "Message received loud and clear, my dear. The day you turn 28, I'm absolutely going to marry you." Not long after that conversation, I received word that Damian had gone missing overseas. I cried for two days straight. On the third day, ignoring everyone who tried to stop me, I traveled halfway across the world to a war zone and became a war correspondent. I searched for him for four long years. Countless bullets had grazed my face, and even bombs had detonated right at my feet. But every single time I woke up from a coma or a severe injury, only one thought ran through my mind. Even if I were at death's door, I had to die by Damian's side. But now, I looked at him. Damian was a bit taller than he was four years ago, his complexion clear and healthy. It was obvious that he had been living the good life. It turned out he hadn't lost his memory at all. He remembered everything. He just didn't care whether I lived or died, nor did he care about the sheer desperation that drove me to search for him. He had waited until the last minute to let me know, acting as though he was doing me a massive favor by allowing me to return and marry him. He had played me like a total fool. I let out a cold, sharp laugh. When Damian escorted me to his car, I kept my mouth shut, for I had a lot of belongings stored at his place that I needed to collect. As I pulled the seatbelt across my chest, the diamond ring on my finger caught the sun, reflecting right into his eye. Damian clicked his tongue in annoyance. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a box, and tossed it to me. "Your man's still alive and kicking, you know. Stop acting like a grieving widow," he said. "Put this one on instead. Camille picked it out yesterday. She said all girls are obsessed with pink diamonds." I flipped the box open. The diamond inside was so tiny that it was practically invisible. Worse, it was visibly riddled with inclusions. The price tag hadn't even been removed, staring right back at me in plain text. "Retail Price: 199 dollars." A laugh escaped my throat as I slammed the ring box shut with a sharp snap. "So, Camille's still alive, huh?" Chapter 2 The tires screeched as Damian slammed the brakes, sending the ring box tumbling onto the floorboard. The seatbelt slammed against my chest, locking me violently in place. Damian glared at me, his voice sharp and menacing. "If you still haven't learned to drop the attitude, you can pack your bags and get right back on a plane." He spoke with such authority that for a moment, I almost forgot exactly why they had been punishing me in the first place. My face remained completely blank. "Four years ago, I caught the two of you in bed together, so I called her out on it. What exactly is the problem?" Damian pinched the bridge of his nose, his tone glacial. "I've told you a thousand times. She wasn't feeling well and just wanted to lie down for a minute. Besides, we both had our clothes on. "I watched Camille grow up. She's practically a sister to me. Can you please get your mind out of the gutter already?" A woman who could tug at his clothes while he offered zero resistance was practically a sister to him. The thought of that made me physically sick to my stomach. Seeing the color drain from my face, Damian softened his tone slightly. "Look, considering you spent the last few years trying to die for me because you're so madly in love, I'll let it slide. If you behave yourself, you'll get the wedding you've been begging for tomorrow. Otherwise, you can forget about it." I ran my thumb over the base of the ring on my finger, forcing myself to calm down. Damian still lived at the same address as four years ago. I had left in such a rush back then that many of my belongings were still stored here. The moment we walked through the front door, Camille Fuller was standing right there in the entryway, clad in a white wedding dress. I recognized the fabric instantly as I bellowed, "That's my mother's wedding dress! Take it off right now!" Mom had lived a long, happy life. Before she passed away, she passed the gown down to my sister, Elena Rowan, who then passed it down to me. Decades had passed, leaving the fabric fragile. Mom had left behind very few keepsakes, and the main reason I came here today was to retrieve the dress. Camille shrank back at my outburst, looking helpless. "I'm so sorry, Evelyn. I just wanted to try it on your behalf. I'll take it off right away." She made a huge show of moving around, and as she lifted her arms, the fabric tore right along the waistline. My eyes reddened as I seized her arm and slapped her hard across the face. Before I could reach for the zipper to get her out of it, Damian grabbed me and threw me aside. My back slammed hard against the wall, jarring a set of old injuries. The pain was so intense that my face instantly paled. "Damian, I didn't mean to," Camille sobbed, shrinking into Damian's arms and weeping pitifully. "Evelyn came back on such short notice. I wanted to help her run through everything so the schedule would be perfect. I had no idea this old wedding dress was so important to her." Damian held her tight, his voice full of concern as he comforted her, "It's fine. Wearing a dead person's clothes is such a jinx. Why would you even want to touch it?" He turned his glare back to me. "Evelyn, have you lost your mind? Look at the state you're in. How are you supposed to walk down the aisle tomorrow? "Honestly, I think it's best if Camille takes your place and goes through the ceremony for you. We'll still get our marriage certificate, but we'll give her the wedding to make up for what you've done." I forced myself to stand, finding the situation laughable. "Damian, when you called me last month to announce that we were getting married, I'm pretty sure I made myself very clear. We're over." Damian's composure faltered for a split second. Camille immediately covered her face with her hands. "Damian, please don't upset Evelyn for my sake. As long as the two of you can be together, I'm willing to pack up and go back to my hometown right now." "What kind of nonsense is that?" Damian cut her off instantly. "I said you're getting the wedding, and that's final. I don't care what kind of threats Evelyn throws at me. Take that piece of trash off right now. I'm buying you the most expensive designer gown on the market." As the two of them walked out the door, Camille flashed a smug, triumphant smile right at me over Damien's shoulder. Once the house fell silent, I packed up my suitcase and carefully folded the damaged wedding dress away. Just then, my phone buzzed with a text message. "Are you okay? Do you need me to come pick you up?" Chapter 3 I curved my lips into a smile for the first time that day. Touching my ring, I wrote back, "I'm good. Honestly, I haven't felt this great in four years." … Damian spared no expense for the wedding. Almost the entire Calloway family showed up, alongside the friends who served with him and his post-military business partners. The ballroom was packed to the brim. Everyone in the crowd kept whispering about how devoted he was, and the only person who thought of calling me was Elena. "Evelyn, what on earth is that Calloway kid playing at? Didn't you two break up? Why is there a stranger at your wedding? And isn't The Regency supposed to host your commendation ceremony today? Why is there a wedding happening instead?" When I arrived at the hotel, Damian was throwing a massive fit. "What do you mean, short notice? I booked this ballroom a month ago. You can't expect me to cancel the venue on the spot!" The hotel manager wiped the sweat from his brow. "Sir, we never received a deposit, so the booking was never finalized," he explained. "Ms. Rowan spent years reporting from an active war zone. She risked her life for the truth, and her photos won the Pallister Award. "The local news station wanted to interview her, so they booked our main ballroom for the occasion. Mr. Calloway, this is a matter of honor. Could you perhaps yield the venue?" Damian frowned, ready to snap back. But as his eyes caught the documents in the manager's hands, he froze. "The Ms. Rowan you're talking about… Is it Evelyn Rowan?" A life-sized banner stood nearby, displaying a photograph I had taken amid gunfire and explosions. My name was printed in bold letters right next to the headline about my award. Before Damian could process it, the hotel manager glanced at the wedding sign and put the pieces together. "Oh, this is Ms. Rowan's wedding ceremony! I heard a couple of days ago that she had big news coming up. What a coincidence!" said the manager. "Since everyone is here for Ms. Rowan anyway, let's combine the events. It's a great opportunity for the wedding guests to see her work." The manager turned to Camille, who stood there in a wedding dress. "You must be Ms. Rowan! You're incredibly brave to go into a war zone like that. It's an honor to host you." Camille turned pale. I chose that exact second to step forward. The moment I walked into the room, every eye in the ballroom turned toward me. Damian frowned at me. "I thought I told you to stay home and let Camille handle the ceremony. And when were you planning to tell me about this award?" I looked at him, finding his confusion pathetic. "Damian, a lot happened over the last four years. My first year over there, I heard a group of Corvians was trapped in an air strike, so I ran straight into a hot zone to look for you. "A bomb went off right next to me. I lost 60% of the hearing in my left ear. Did you ever bother to ask about that?" Damian froze, his eyes dropping to my scarred earlobe. "My second year looking for you, I took a bullet to the leg. I had to crawl out of the trenches on my hands and knees because I refused to die in a ditch over there. I couldn't bear the thought of never seeing you again," I continued. "Over the last four years, I've survived countless injuries. I nearly died multiple times, and the only reason I woke up was because of you." My voice was calm as I added, "Damian, while you were busy punishing me, I was going through hell. So, tell me, do you want to hear about the rest of it?" Damian's eyes welled with tears. A heavy silence fell over the guests, the crowd visibly shaken by what I said. Damian opened his mouth, stammering for an answer, but Camille interrupted him with a bellow. "Oh, please! Stop playing the victim. You did it for fame and the prize money. You were so obsessed with your little award that you left children to die in those war zones. In the end, you got your fame, but what about their mothers?" Chapter 4 The award-winning photo on display captured a harrowing scene. In the middle of the rubble, facing the barrel of an enemy rifle, a girl as thin as a skeleton raised her hands like a toy gun. She was smiling, looking like she was just playing a game with friends. Camille sneered. "You stood right next to that kid, saw the danger she was in, and did nothing. You just stood there taking your sweet time, snapping photos. "How could you call yourself a war correspondent? You went looking for cheap shock value just to win a prize. For all we know, you bought those pictures. "Anyone can spend a few years hiding out abroad and claim they were on the front lines. Who's going to check?" Because she spoke with such conviction, the guests looked back and forth between the photograph and me, their expressions shifting. As his face hardened, Damian turned on me and barked, "Evelyn, I can't believe how cunning you are! You played me for a fool." He scanned the venue, gesturing toward the management and the reporters waiting for the interview. Letting out a sharp laugh, he continued, "You probably hired these actors yourself, wanting a big production to show off your achievements, make me look like the bad guy, and force me into regretting my choices. "God knows where you actually spent those four years or who you were sleeping with while claiming to look for me." The hotel manager cleared his throat, nervously wiping his brow. "Sir—" Cutting him off entirely, Damian looked down his nose at me. "I'll tell you what, Evelyn. If you can learn to accept Camille, respect her, and mind your own business when it comes to the two of us, I'll still marry you, so stop throwing a tantrum," he said, his tone dripping with condescension. "But if you keep threatening me and putting on these little shows, you can forget about it. I won't marry you." I watched him tear into me in front of the entire crowd. All of a sudden, I realized Damian looked like a stranger. I remembered the day we met on a train, back when my period had ruined the sleeper sheets, and the conductor was standing in the aisle, screaming at me. Just as the tears started falling, Damian had stepped in to block him. He had just enlisted back then, his six-foot-one frame carrying immense authority in his uniform. "The manual doesn't say anything about passenger fines, cleaning fees, or verbal abuse during a medical emergency," he had said, staring the man down. "Apologize to the lady right now." Back then, he felt like a knight in shining armor who was there to spare me the humiliation. He was a far cry from the man standing in front of me now. Taking a slow breath, I looked Damian dead in the eye. "Maybe I never actually found you," I whispered. Damian frowned. "What are you talking about?" I broke into a sudden smile. "Damian, I think you actually died out there on the battlefield four years ago. The man standing in front of me right now is just a ghost wearing your skin." His expression darkened as he closed the distance between us, his eyes narrowing when the diamond ring on my finger caught the light again. Frustrated by the reminder, Damian snapped, "I told you to put on the ring I bought you! Why are you clinging to some cheap ring you bought just to play pretend?" "Who said she bought it herself?" a cold, commanding voice echoed from the entrance. A man strode into the venue and stepped up behind me, his hand resting firmly on my shoulder. "Why shouldn't my wife wear our wedding ring?" I reached up and squeezed his hand. Our matching bands caught the light and flashed in unison. The moment the guests recognized him, their expressions shifted as they rose to their feet. Damian's eyes widened in utter disbelief. "It's you!"