The Bomb and the Weight of My Choice

My husband's protg boasted she could disarm bombs blindfolded, relying on her so-called intuition.

Her reckless misjudgment triggered a bomb's secondary detonation sequence, endangering an entire building. I intervened, using the dangerous liquid nitrogen condensation method to save the day.

As a result, Rita Smith was removed from frontline duties and placed under investigation.

Patrick Munoz tried to defend her, but I stopped him cold. "If you back her now, you won't just fail to save her. You'll be dragged down with her."

Crushed by the pressure, Rita staged an accident that killed her, leaving a letter blaming him for abandoning her in her hour of need. He said nothing, only preserving her letter in his study.

Years later, he became a nationally renowned bomb disposal expert.

During a terrorist attack, I was strapped to a timed explosive. He arrived to defuse it but repeated Rita's fatal mistake.

As the timer ticked down, he gave a bitter laugh. "Rita was just nervous back then. If I'd supported her, she'd be a hero today."

The bomb detonated, leaving nothing of me behind.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back to the point when he tried to defend Rita.

He didn't know that the building housed the nation's top-secret core server.

Chapter 1

...

The moment I realized I'd been reborn, I abandoned my plan to rush to the scene. Instead, I returned to my dorm and switched off my encrypted communicator.

In my past life, Rita Smith's error had her frantically messaging me for help. I'd just completed a grueling mission, sleepless for three days, yet I risked my life, enduring liquid nitrogen burns, to save the core server in that building.

Because of my efforts, the military spared her a court-martial, opting for suspension and investigation instead. If she had avoided further mistakes, she could have returned to duty.

But Rita's fragile ego couldn't handle her colleagues' scorn. She staged a fatal accident that blew herself up.

Years later, Patrick Munoz's obsession with proving her right led to my death in an explosion.

I pulled the blanket over my head and slept until dawn.

The next morning, I turned on my communicator. The screen lit up with over a hundred missed calls and red alerts.

Undazed, I took my time washing up, donned my uniform, and headed to the scene.

Outside the cordon, the air was thick with dread, despair etched on every face. Rita sat on the ground, disheveled and trembling like a leaf.

Her colleagues glared with cold venom.

"This is your fault, Rita! You and your stupid intuition nonsense!"

"You triggered the secondary detonation. We're all dead now."

"General Wilson will have us all court-martialed."

Rita's gaze swept the crowd, landing on me. Her eyes briefly lit up, as if I were her salvation, but then they darkened with resentment.

She pointed at me, yelling at the top of his lungs, "It was her! I called her all night. She could've saved us, but she turned off her phone to let us die!"

All eyes turned to me, sharp as blades.

Seizing the moment, Rita stumbled toward me and thrust her communicator in my face. The screen blazed with call logs.

"You know what's in that building!" she shrieked, tears streaming. "National secrets! Yet you went offline at a critical moment. What's your agenda?"

The crowd fell silent, waiting for my response.

The sight of her twisted face reignited my past life's fury. My hand flew up, delivering a sharp slap across her face.

Chapter 2

Rita clutched her face, stunned.

I shook my stinging wrist, my voice cold as ice. "Have you lost your mind?"

...

I held up the mission roster for all to see, the schedule and signatures unmistakable. "Last night's lead operator was you, Rita. I was on mandatory rest after a 72-hour special op. My name isn't on this list."

The crowd erupted, their anger finding a new target.

"Right! Mary just got back from the Red Scorpion mission, defusing three linked mines. She could barely stand."

"Rita, you always hide behind Patrick's protection, dumping the worst jobs on her. Now you screw up and want her to take the fall?"

"You're disgusting, dragging others down with you!"

The accusations hit Rita like a barrage of stones. Her face drained of color, and she collapsed in despair.

Just then, a military SUV screeched to a halt at the cordon. Clifford Wilson and Patrick stepped out with grim expressions.

Patrick and I were once the military's golden couple, envied by all. But now, his gaze slid past me without a flicker of recognition.

He rushed straight to Rita, draping his jacket over her and pulling her into his arms.

"Don't be scared. I've got you," he said, his voice softer than I'd ever heard. "I won't let anything happen to you."

My heart turned to ice because in my past life, he'd said the same thing. "Rita was just nervous. She is gifted. You should help her grow."

Now he displayed his bias for all to see. The crowd watched with anger and disdain.

Clifford's gaze cut between us before he summoned me to the command vehicle. Once inside, his stoic fa?ade crumbled, revealing panic in his battle-hardened eyes for the first time.

"I don't care about the protocols!" he roared, slamming his fist on the map table, rattling the equipment. "You have to save that server. If it goes, our entire unit will face a firing squad."

I met his bloodshot eyes calmly. "General, I'll try."

He paused, looking at me, and I continued, "But I have a request."

I pulled a document from my pocket and handed it over. It was Patrick's signed approval for Rita's Special Talent Field Application.

The word "talent" now seemed bitterly ironic.

"Patrick approved her operation," I said. "I'm not cleaning up this mess alone. He needs to pay for his so-called innovation."

Clifford's eyes narrowed. He snatched the paper, scanned it, and slammed it down.

"That fool!" he bellowed, nearly tearing the roof off. "You have my word. His expert promotion is dead. All his advancement paths are frozen as of today."

My lips curved into a cold smile. I picked up a pen and signed the mission exemption and liability waiver, sealing Patrick's fate.

Chapter 3

...

I donned my blast suit and rushed into the building.

There were no blueprints or plans. I just followed my past life's memories to bypass Rita's faulty wiring, ignore the blinking red traps, and locate the core server with precision.

Liquid nitrogen hissed, white mist filling the air. The piercing alarm stopped, indicating that the secondary detonation had been neutralized.

I removed my helmet, sweat and fog blurring my vision. Exhausted, I slumped against the wall, nearly fainting.

Outside, the crowd cheered in relief. My colleagues rushed to support me, their voices thick with gratitude.

"Mary, you're incredible!"

"We knew you'd pull it off!"

I declined their celebratory invites, eager to go home and rest.

As I reached for my car, a sharp pain hit my neck. A hand clamped over my mouth, dragging me backward. My struggles were futile as I was shoved into a dark storage room.

The door slammed shut and locked.

Tied to a cold chair, I couldn't move. A flickering bulb revealed a familiar silhouette.

Patrick crouched before me, brushing my hair with unsettling tenderness. "Don't struggle, sweetheart. The ropes will hurt you."

His words slithered like a snake, making my skin crawl. His eyes gleamed with obsession. "You ruined Rita, you know that?"

His soft tone hit like a hammer. "The report lists her as the primary offender. Her career is over."

"She brought it on herself," I shot back.

He shook his head, sighing as if I were being unreasonable. "No, I can save her."

He got up and went to the corner to grab a steel pipe as thick as an arm. "If you can't disarm bombs anymore, they'll have to reinstate her. Help her one last time. Don't be scared. I promise, we will make it up to you."

Dread surged from my feet to my skull as I watched him approach. "Are you crazy? My hands save lives, not paving the way for your protg."

Guilt flickered in his eyes, but his grip on the pipe didn't waver. "I'll take care of you forever."

The pipe swung down with a whistle, shattering my right wrist. The pain drowned me like a tidal wave.

My vision darkened, and I nearly passed out. He dropped the pipe and knelt, wrapping my mangled hand in a towel with eerie care, as if handling a priceless artifact.

He leaned close, his hot breath assailing my neck. He whispered, "Stay here one night. Once the investigation is done, I'll get you out. Rita's reputation must stay spotless."

He got up and left without looking back. The light went out, plunging the room into darkness.

...

I woke to violent shaking, my wrist throbbing. I groaned, cold sweat soaking my back.

Patrick gripped my shoulders, his bloodshot eyes wild. "Mary! The server's cooling system failed!"

Chapter 4

Patrick's roar made my ears ring. "The liquid nitrogen caused metal fatigue. Why didn't you warn me?"

I stared at the man who had shattered my wrist just hours ago, now blaming me for not predicting the fallout of his actions.

I forced a bitter laugh. "High-precision equipment, flash-frozen. Failure is normal, isn't it?"

My calm words snapped his frayed nerves.

"Shut up!" He seized my uninjured arm, dragging me out like a madman. "Fix it! Rita's still under investigation. She can't take more blame."

It was Rita again. All he cared about was her.

I stumbled, my broken wrist dangling. Each jolt sent agony through me. With all my strength, I wrenched free and thrust my mangled hand in his face. "Look! My hand is ruined!"

His pupils shrank, guilt flashing before giving way to mania. "It's fine. You're so skilled. You can do it one-handed, right?"

He looked at me, almost pleading. "For Rita, try. Just once."

The command room door flew open. Clifford stormed in with guards, his eyes locking on my bloodied hand. His rage seemed to ignite the air. "Take him down!"

The guards lunged, pinning Patrick to the ground. I exhaled and collapsed backward, caught by a pair of steady hands.

I thought it was over, but Patrick jerked his head up, pointing at me with a feral scream. "It's her! She sabotaged the server out of jealousy for Rita's talent. And she broke her hand to frame me!"

I stared incredulously at the man I'd loved for a decade. He was my husband who shared my bed, but he had no shame.

My mind went blank. I was too stunned to argue.

Rita was brought in, sobbing hysterically. When she saw Patrick restrained, her cries intensified. Patrick seized his chance, shouting at Clifford, "General! Rita can sense energy flows. Let her try! She's the only one who can save the server."

Rita's sobs paused. She looked at Patrick, then at me and Clifford. Caught in the moment, she nodded through tears.

My strength drained, but I managed a hoarse shout. "No! The core's overloaded. Touching it will trigger a chain explosion. Everyone will die!"

Sadly, no one listened. To them, I was just a jealous, unhinged woman.

Two staff members pushed Rita toward the humming, overheating server. I watched, helpless, as her trembling hand reached for it.

Time seemed to freeze. Her fingers neared the machine. It was all over.

I closed my eyes, bracing for the explosion and flames that would consume us all.