This Multiple Choice Question Only Had Me As The Answer Chapter 06

This Multiple Choice Question Only Had Me As The Answer Chapter 06

“Sound off!” 

“One!” 

“Two!” 

“Three!” 

On the first day of basic training, I cut off my 

waist–length hair. 

The strands fell to the floor. The person in the 

mirror was a stranger, Short hair. Camouflage 

uniform. My skin already red from the sun. 

The drill sergeant asked, “You miss it?” 

“No. Feels lighter.” 

Military academy life was absolute hell. 

Wake up at five. Lights out at ten. 

In between: drills, tactical exercises, physical training, and endless briefings. 

I was so exhausted that my head hit the pillow 

and I passed out. No time for dreams. 

The name Jordan faded. 

During mud run training, I crawled under barbed 

wire. 

I moved too fast and gashed my right calf. Blood mixed with mud and ran down my leg. 

I didn’t stop. 

I gritted my teeth and finished without breaking 

form. 

The sergeant clicked his stopwatch and gave me. 

a look. “Not bad.” 

After the exercise, Gavin Smith ran over. “You 

know your leg is bleeding, right?” 

He didn’t ask if I wanted to go to the infirmary. Hel 

just squatted down and picked me up. 

“Put me down. I can walk.” 

“Just stay still. Look at your leg.” 

He carried me to the medic. While the doctor 

cleaned and bandaged the wound, Gavin stood 

right there. 

Didn’t say anything. Didn’t leave. 

It reminded me of how Jordan used to be when I 

got hurt. 

No. Actually, Jordan wasn’t like that. 

Jordan would panic. He’d fuss. He’d act like the world was ending. 

“What are you thinking about?” Gavin tapped my forehead. 

“Nothing.” 

“Then focus on healing. Don’t be a hero. You earn honors by being good, not by killing yourself.” 

By the end of basic training, I was named 

“Outstanding New Cadet.” 

At the ceremony, General Campbell personally pinned the medal on my uniform. 

I gave him a crisp salute and stood straight. 

In the audience, Gavin gave me a thumbs up. 

When we finally got our phones back that weekend, I turned mine on and found more texts from Jordan, sent from someone else’s number. 

Hundreds of them. All apologies, all regret, saying he’d drop out of Ivy Coast, retake the SATS, and 

apply to military academy just to be with me. 

I scrolled through a couple. One line stood out: [I 

can’t live without you. You don’t even know.] 

I paused for a second. Then I didn’t reply. 

I closed the messages and video–called my 

parents. 

“Look! I got the medal!” 

On the screen, my mom was crying and laughing 

at the same time. 

As for Jordan’s late confessions… 

Let them go. 

Expired milk is still sour, no matter how nice the 

carton.