Chapter 15 – Stuart’s Wife?!

Annette pulled back the string of her makeshift slingshot with calm precision. A small stone zipped through the early morning air with a sharp hiss—before the startled wild duck could rise fully into the sky, it dropped with a splash into the shallows, flapping weakly.

Without hesitation, she stepped into the icy water, not even sparing a thought for her soaked shoes. She waded forward and grabbed the duck by the neck—plump and heavy. Mud splashed across her clothes and face, but her eyes curved into a satisfied smile. In her mind, she was already simmering a pot of fragrant duck soup.

On the shore stood a tall man in a military coat, watching her in stunned admiration. Sean hadn't expected to witness such sharp reflexes and precise aim from a village girl with a slingshot. The morning sun broke through the mist, casting a warm light across Annette's figure. Her muddy face was lit with pride and joy. Sean chuckled quietly to himself—if he wasn't in a hurry to visit Stuart at the hospital, he'd have stopped to ask if she'd ever considered joining the military.

Unaware of her spectator, Annette crouched by the river, pulled out a surgical blade she'd cheekily borrowed from a nurse, and swiftly butchered the duck. She hated the mess of plucking feathers and saw no use in boiling water. The skin came off clean, and the entrails were carefully washed and tucked back inside. Passersby stopped in awe. The way she handled that tiny blade—steady and efficient—was something most men couldn't match.

When she finally stood, her legs were numb from the cold. She stamped her feet to shake off the chill, then limped back toward the hospital.

Once at the rear of the hospital, she called out sweetly to the kitchen cook, "Sir, would it be possible to borrow that coal stove for a bit? I just need a pot too."

The older man turned and grinned, "You're Stuart's wife, right?"

Annette nodded quickly. "Yes, I bought a duck. I'd like to make some soup for him."

The cook squinted at her mud-streaked appearance—she looked more like the butcher than the buyer—but said nothing. "Use that pot. If you need seasoning, just ask. Stuart's a war hero. He deserves all the nourishment he can get."

With a smile and a polite thank you, Annette washed the duck, chopped it with practiced ease, and set it to simmer. While the broth bubbled over glowing coal, she warmed herself by the fire.

Meanwhile, back in the hospital room, Stuart was slowly walking a short lap with Sean's help. He hadn't seen Annette since waking—was she home? He couldn't help but wonder.

Sean, tired of Stuart's habitual silence, huffed, "Seriously, do you ever use words like normal people? You've got a wife now—don't make her guess what you're thinking."

Still no reply. Stuart lay back down, brows slightly drawn, pain dull and constant beneath his ribs.

Undeterred, Sean continued, "On the way here, I saw a girl take down a duck mid-flight with a slingshot. I swear, she's born for the army. Calm, quick, sharp aim—exactly what we need for a sniper."

Stuart remained unmoved, covering his eyes with an arm.

Sean sighed and changed the subject. "I didn't make it to your wedding, but I prepared a gift. Still, I heard your wife... well, she's supposedly a handful. What did Marshal Clark say to get you to agree?"

"Annette and you, man… worlds apart. Marriage isn't something you gamble with your whole life."

Still silence. But in Stuart's mind, he saw flashes of the last two days—Annette's sharp intuition, her hands helping him in the most awkward moment of need—and his ears flushed red.

"Anyway," Sean muttered, "now that you're married, live well. I just wish you could come back. This unit's wasting your talent."

As he trailed off, a young woman entered, holding a food container. Seeing Sean, she nodded politely. Sean assumed this was the infamous wife—soft-spoken and elegant. "Good morning, ma'am."

Charlotte's cheeks flushed instantly. "Oh, I'm not— I mean, I'm not his wife."

"Charlotte's from the infirmary," Stuart clarified with a frown.

Sean awkwardly apologized, rubbing his neck. "Ah, sorry."

"I brought porridge," Charlotte added shyly. "You're probably hungry."

Before Stuart could reply, Annette burst in, cheeks rosy from the cold, eyes darting to the two visitors.

Sean looked up and blurted, "It's you?!"