Love and Missiles

Even as I turned off my phone screen, Claire's bodyguard kicked open the door, dragging me out in front of Stan who was already wearing full boxing gear.

Despite looking scrawny in comparison, he was a boxer, and punched me in the gut even before I realized it.

His coach, however, was hesitant. "Mr. Cross' body frame does resemble Stan's next opponent, but he's not actually a boxer—"

"That's fine—just worry about helping Stan win and nothing else."

I heard Claire's cool voice cutting the coach short before she turned to me and demanded, "You can dodge, but don't you dare punch back."

Then, realizing that was ridiculous, she softened her tone and said, "Just deal with it this time. I'll have dinner with you in a few days."

Even before she finished, Stan had sent me stumbling sideways with a punch on the face.

And within minutes, my cheeks were swollen as I kept spasming.

But I could also see Stan smiling smugly under his helmet—he was doing this just to hurt me!

Still, he eventually got tired and called for a break, with Claire immediately rushing to his side and hovering around him attentively.

I was lying flat on my back, my eyes must have been so swollen that I couldn't even see straight.

Stan's coach was sweating buckets even as he watched, "Mr. Cross might die at this rate…"

There was a brief silence, until Claire eventually said, "Don't worry about it. Stan needs to train."

I pushed myself to my feet right then. "Get it done soon. Once this is finished, I owe neither of you anything."

Claire glowered immediately, "You're just helping Stan train. What's with that attitude?"

Before I could respond, Stan tugged on her hand. "It's alright. Oliver's not looking good—let's put off the training session."

It just so happened that I was at my limit and passed out at that moment.

-

When I opened my eyes again, I saw Claire sitting beside my bed, never looking at me as she asked, "You're finally awake. Does it hurt anywhere?"

I ignored her and began searching for my phone.

My silence perhaps annoyed her, and she snatched it away before I could reach it. "I'm talking to you."

I sighed. "I'm alright. Now give me my phone."

Claire's jaw tightened right then, and she held on to my phone.

Seeing the many texts popping up, she asked, "Who are those from?"

"A colleague. You don't know them,"

She clicked her tongue—I must have been too cold. "What's with your attitude these days?! I'm right here, keeping you company! What more do you want?"

Seeing her so upset, I thought I definitely would have been sweet-talking her in a beat in the past.

But that was in the past.

That was when Stan entered, calling out, "Hey, honey!"

Claire was at once on her feet, holding hands with him as I watched. "What brings you here?"

As for me, I seized the moment to get my phone and replied to my boss' texts.

[Sorry for missing your texts earlier. But I've made up my mind and I'll be going to join the national weapons program.]

[I will need time to set my affairs in order, however, so please allow me to take a leave of absence before my departure.]

[There's nothing to be concerned with. I've filled all necessary forms and sent them to your mail.]

I sighed in relief after I sent all the texts, while Stan and Claire were still busy talking right in front of me.

I could get sick right then, as they were talking about buying a bigger bed and doing more stuff on it.

Claire was still smiling even when she turned to me, "Go home, Oliver. Stan and I are busy… Oh, I promised to have dinner with you, right? I'll be done with work in a couple days. Just sit tight."

I didn't hold out hope—I knew she'd just break her promise anyway.

-

Over the next couple days, there were people coming in and out of the master bedroom no matter the time.

On one occasion, I saw Claire and Stan joking around as they rolled around the mattress, even kissing.

Gone was her usual indifference. Her face now flushed crimson with uncharacteristic shyness.

They were bent on wiping clean any traces of me as they redecorated the entire place.

In the evening, Claire even arranged for a candlelight dinner out on the balcony, taking a selfie of herself with Stan.

When I noticed the photo post on social media, she was congratulated by a ton of our mutual friends, so I followed suit.

[All the best.]

Claire was soon knocking on my door, but I ignored it.

Two hours later, I headed to the office and picked up the project files I needed, before heading to the mall to pick up some groceries.

I ran into Stan and Claire, who were pushing a trolley and leaning on each other by the childcare product corner, discussing whether they preferred a boy or a girl.

The wife of another couple passing by was complaining right then, "Just look at them—how caring the husband is! As for you, all you do is play on your phone even though you're out here with me!"

The husband could only put away his phone, scratching his head as he came up with an excuse.

As for me, I was reminded of the times when I had asked Claire to pick up groceries with me when we started living together, but she would always claim she was busy and told me to do it myself.

That was when Stan sent me a voice message of Claire saying, "Who would want to go shopping with him? It's so boring. So troublesome."

I froze, my hands shaking as I held my phone, but Stan soon sent me another voice message, "I refuse to marry the likes of him. I mean, engineering? That's so nerdy. I don't want my children to inherit such genes."