Chapter 70

Chapter 70
Georgiana stepped off the bus to find Michael waiting at the stop. He wore military-green training clothes that made him look exceptionally tall and handsome. She hadn't seen him in this attire for so long that it seemed almost unfamiliar.
"You've rejoined your unit?" she asked as she approached him.
Michael shook his head. "Just went in for testing." He nodded toward the grocery store across the street. "Ready?"
Inside, they navigated the crowded aisles together, selecting vegetables and examining fish. Michael picked up a fresh sea bass, expertly checking its eyes and gills.
"This one looks good," he said, waiting for her approval before adding it to their basket.
Georgiana smiled as she selected fresh shrimp from the seafood counter. Anyone watching might have mistaken them for a couple shopping for a shared dinner.
Michael's apartment was just a short walk from the market. From the outside, the building looked as old as her father's, but when he opened the door, Georgiana was surprised by the interior—clean lines, minimal furnishings, and meticulous organization. The two-bedroom apartment felt spacious with just one occupant, unlike her father's home which was cluttered with various possessions.
In the kitchen, Michael helped Georgiana arrange their groceries, their coordination in the kitchen remarkably intuitive.
"Let me help you," Michael said, reaching for an apron hanging on a hook. He held it out, then stepped behind her to tie it at her waist.
The gesture was unexpectedly intimate, his fingers working deftly as she stood perfectly still, her face beginning to blush slightly.
Georgiana started preparing the fish, scaling it with practiced movements. "I should tell you something," she said without looking up. "I resigned from CNN."
Michael paused, processing her words. "Was that your decision?"
"Yes," she replied, continuing her work methodically. "I think I might need to take a break. Later, I can figure out what comes next."
Michael began washing vegetables at the sink. "How are you feeling about it?"
Georgiana didn't answer immediately. She finished scaling the fish, then rinsed her hands. "A little melancholy, I guess. I spent two years there." She forced a smile. "But honestly, it's also a relief. Like I can finally breathe."
"Joseph's case is moving forward," Michael said, changing the subject. "The police are gathering evidence, and it sounds promising. You don't need to worry about him anymore." He paused before continuing. "The Thornton situation is more complicated. There's still not enough conclusive evidence to prove everything. But at least he won't be able to harm students again."
"That's good," Georgiana said softly, tossing shrimp heads into the trash. "I'm feeling a bit lost right now, to be honest," she admitted with a forced laugh.
"Domestic news doesn't feel right for me anymore, and international assignments..." her voice trailed off as she shrugged. "Maybe I'll end up as a museum guide."
They both smiled slightly.
Soon the kitchen filled with delicious aromas as dishes began making their way to the table—spicy fish soup, sautéed shrimp with vegetables, and fragrant rice. Michael tried each dish, giving them a thumbs up.
As they were finishing their meal, Georgiana asked, "Will you eventually return to active duty?"
Michael hesitated briefly, swallowing his last bite of rice. "Probably," he said.
By the time they finished cleaning up, it was nearly nine-thirty. Georgiana gathered her things, ready to head home. Michael walked her to the door.
"Thanks for dinner," he said with a smile. "I can admit that you weren't exaggerating about your cooking skills at all."
After Georgiana left, Michael returned to his empty apartment. He picked up his phone and called Frank.
The next morning, Michael arrived at the military base at exactly eight o'clock. Frank was waiting on the steps of the military education building, his expression brightening visibly when he spotted Michael.
"Welcome back," Frank said, clapping him on the shoulder repeatedly. "It's good to see you here again."
Frank led him into the building, stopping at a classroom door and knocking gently. Though class hadn't yet started, a military officer in his forties was already inside, writing equations on the blackboard. This was Henry Hayes, the Eastern Command's premier EOD specialist whose accomplishments in the field were legendary.
Michael had trained under him during his first two years at the academy before Henry was reassigned to special operations.
The two men locked eyes across the room, master and student reunited after years apart. Michael had returned to become Henry's assistant.
"Your hearing," Henry immediately said, pointing to Michael's ear. "How is it?"
"Much better," Michael replied. "But I still can't handle actual explosives."
Frank glanced at his watch. "Class will be starting soon. Once the paperwork's complete, he's all yours," he told Henry.
Henry nodded. "My student. I'll bring him back."
Michael smiled faintly at this. "I just wanted to return to service, even if only maintaining equipment. You've given me something suitable to do."
Frank laughed heartily. "Finally came to your senses! I thought you'd fight me for at least another year." His expression grew more serious. "Your surgeon said after your last operation that your physical recovery is progressing well. Give it another six months, and physiologically you should be fully recovered. But the tinnitus from psychological trauma—that's beyond his expertise. He's done everything he can."
Michael was quiet for a moment. "I know. During our last appointment, he told me no more surgeries were possible. But at that time..."
He didn't finish the thought. The pain still triggered the ringing in his ears. He'd believed there was no hope.
Frank wrapped an arm around Michael's shoulders as they walked toward the exit. "Michael, let the past be the past. Don't keep grinding it in your heart. You're young; there's still so much ahead of you. The skills you've developed over years of training—it would be a shame to waste them."
He continued, "You don't need to tell me what you're thinking. Just cooperate with the military doctors, stick with the treatment. Things will improve. I know you have big ambitions. Learn from Hayes for now, and when you're ready to return to the training field, I'll do everything I can to help. But you can't keep spiraling downward."
Michael clenched his jaw, nodding firmly. For the first time in months, he felt something like hope—a path forward, a possibility of reclaiming who he once was.