She found him in the dark mess hall, writing with old-fashioned pen and ink. He was pouring out his passion onto the crisp, linen paper, and her heart constricted with his lost opportunity to fill the loneliness that came with the constraints of command.

Her fingers halted his hand. “I can give you something even better to remember if you’ll give me another chance?”

He looked up into her moist eyes. “You’re all I’ve ever wanted, not this substitute.”

“Then let her go.”

His eyes focused on hers, he wadded up the paper and threw it over his shoulder. “Gone.”