Chapter 10: Measured Progress
The bruises faded on schedule.
Abigail’s eye opened fully again. The split lip healed into a thin line she stopped testing with her tongue. The fingerprint marks on her arms yellowed and then disappeared under ordinary light. What remained was the quieter work: sleep that did not fracture at every sound, the decision to eat without being told, the gradual return of a voice that no longer dropped when she spoke about the guest house.
May you like
I maintained the leave in phases, returning to Fort Liberty for essential obligations and driving back the same evening. The temporary apartment stayed off every list the Fergusons could reach. Counsel confirmed that the extended protective order had been granted without significant contest; the photographic evidence and contemporaneous statement left little room for the earlier narrative of clumsiness or sensitivity.
Nicholas’s attorney attempted one written inquiry framed as concern for marital reconciliation. It was answered once, formally, and then ignored. Patricia’s name ceased appearing in any channel that reached us. Gregory never reappeared. The absence was not peace. It was compliance under the weight of documentation they could not erase.
