Page 70 of The Breaking Point

I don’t say anything. I can’t.

“He said all the unanswered questions are driving him insane. He keeps replaying it, wondering who made it out, who didn’t, what he could’ve done. Kate… not only is he going back. He wants to goto the same region. Same outpost.”

My breath catches. “He said that?”

“He wants answers,” Aiden says. Then, after a beat: “But I think what he really wants… is revenge.”

I don’t say anything for a while. Just listen to Aiden breathe on the other end. It’s steady. Anchoring.

“Get some rest,” he finally says, softer now. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Love you.”

“I love you too,” I whisper, then hang up and set the phone on the nightstand.

I lie there staring at the ceiling for a long time. Trying to make sense of it all, Markus, Quinn, the things people carry that we can’t always see. Eventually, exhaustion wins. I slip out of my clothes, grab one of Aiden’s shirts off the chair, and fall asleep to the smell of my husband and the hollow ache in my chest.

In the morning, soft light spills in through the open curtains. I walk out into the living room, still in Aiden’s shirt, having slipped on some boxer shorts underneath. Quinn’s curled on the couch under the throw blanket; knees hugged to her chest. Her hair’s a mess. Eyes puffy. She doesn’t even pretend to not be heartbroken.

Sitting down beside her, I say softly, “Aiden talked to him.”

She doesn’t lift her head, but I see her eyes flicker. Her face is the look of someone who’s already given up. “He’s still going.”

I nod, exhale. “He said he needs closure.”

Quinn’s voice cracks, almost a whisper. “I can’t do it again. I can’t.”

I rub her back gently, slow circles between her shoulder blades. “I know, sweetie. I know.”

She leans into my touch, just a little. Like the comfort hurts and helps at the same time.

“I thought it was over,” she whispers. “The nightmares. The waiting. The not knowing if he’d come home in one piece or at all.”

I don’t say anything. What can I say?

“I begged him,” her voice cracks. “I said, ‘Pick me this time.’ But he looked at me like I didn’t understand anything at all.”

I swallow hard. “It’s not about you, Quinn. He’s… broken in places we can’t reach. He thinks going back will fix it. Or make sense of it.”

She doesn’t answer right away. Just pulls the blanket tighter around her. Then, finally: “I don’t want to be brave anymore.”

I lean back against the sofa. “You don’t have to be. Not today.”

And we sit like that, two women in a quiet apartment, holding the pieces of a man neither of us can fully save.

Chapter 27

I’m so glad today is Sunday. I hadhopedto spend it helping Aiden move back in, maybe even do something domestic like have family dinner, but instead, I’m driving Quinn in her car back to her house.

I told Aiden to wait for me; I’d catch a ride home with him. The truth is, I want a word with Markus. When we pull up, Aiden’s already there, sitting on the stoop like he’s been waiting for us. He stands as we approach.

“Give me a few minutes?” I say gently, touching his arm.

He nods. Doesn’t say anything. Just looks tired. More than tired, worn.

Inside, it’s quiet. Markus is on the living room sofa, hunched over in the same spot where Quinn told me about his disappearance, the time he went MIA, the panic, the silence.

---