The Divorced Military Queen Awakens (by Sadie Baxter) novel Chapter 583

**Military 583: Live Long**

“What kind of absurdity is that?” Weston’s voice cut through the air, laced with an undercurrent of genuine apprehension. “Why are you even talking about dying first? Haven’t you ever envisioned a long life, one where you outlast all of us?”

“Living a long life?” Laura’s response emerged as a strange blend of laughter and resignation, a sound tinged with melancholy. “Trust me, I would cherish that more than anyone else. But life, oh, it has this uncanny ability to sever the thread when you least anticipate it…”

Memories surged within her, vivid and painful. She had once fervently wished for enough time to allow her mother to witness her finish school, to see her land a job, to walk down the aisle in white, and to cradle her own child. Yet, none of those dreams had materialized. Her mother hadn’t even lived long enough to see her graduate from high school. The thought stung, and Laura felt her eyes prickling, a warning that tears were threatening to spill over.

Weston instinctively opened his mouth, wanting to offer her comfort, but the traffic light ahead blinked from red to green, snapping him back to reality. He pressed the gas pedal, feeling the car smoothly glide through the intersection, but his mind remained preoccupied with Laura’s words.

Laura, meanwhile, turned her gaze away, sinking deeper into the seat as silence enveloped them. Weston assumed the alcohol had finally taken its toll, lulling her into a peaceful slumber.

As they rolled into the underground garage of Laura’s apartment complex, Weston unbuckled his seatbelt, glancing over at her. “Laura, we’ve arrived. Let me walk you up,” he said, his voice gentle yet firm.

She remained quiet, but he could see her shoulders trembling ever so slightly.

Concerned, Weston leaned over to check on her, and his heart sank when he saw her face, glistening with tears.

*She’s… crying?*

“What’s wrong? Are you in pain somewhere?” he blurted out, scrambling out of the car, flinging open the passenger door, and crouching beside her, desperate to understand.

Her cheeks were slick with tears, her eyelids squeezed shut, and her brow was knitted tight, as if she were ensnared in a private torment that only she could perceive.

“Laura, Laura!” Weston called, brushing his hand gently across her forehead, searching for any sign of fever.

Her skin felt warm, perfectly normal—no fever.

He unclipped her seatbelt, needing to ensure she was physically okay.

In that moment, her eyelids fluttered open, revealing dark irises shimmering with a fresh well of tears.

Weston was momentarily speechless. He had never witnessed Laura in such a vulnerable state—not even during their breakup had she allowed tears to fall in front of him.

Now, as he gazed into those haunting, drowning eyes, a sharp ache twisted in his chest, blooming painfully beneath his ribs.

A single, piercing thought sliced through his mind: if stopping her tears meant moving mountains, he would begin pushing without a moment’s hesitation.

“Please don’t cry,” Weston whispered, cupping Laura’s cheeks with both hands, his thumbs trembling against the warmth of her skin, as if he could somehow absorb her sorrow.

“All right,” Weston replied softly, pressing his lips into a determined line, his heart aching for her. “I’ll take you home.”

With that, he bent low, sliding one arm beneath her knees and another around her back, lifting her from the car in a smooth, protective motion.

Cradled against his chest, she nestled into the curve of his neck like a needy kitten, her breath warm and uneven against his skin.

If not for her desperate call of “Mom,” he might have believed this gesture meant something entirely different.

“What’s the code to your lock?” Weston asked as they reached the apartment door, his voice steady despite the turmoil inside.

“Code? What code?” Laura mumbled, her mind clearly disoriented.

“Come on, be good, open the door for me,” Weston coaxed gently, guiding her fingers toward the glowing keypad. “We’ll be inside in no time, and you can rest.”

Almost on instinct, her fingers danced across the numbers, and with a polite chime, the lock released, the door sliding open with a soft sigh of relief.

He carried her straight to the bedroom, a sense of purpose fueling his movements.

However, when he attempted to set her down, she clung to his neck with a fierce determination, utterly unwilling to let go, as if he were her anchor in a storm.