"Huh!" He gasped as he woke up early that morning.
Images of a small room kept replaying inside his head. At the center, two people stood, smiling, laughing, and exchanging vows.
"What the hell!" He rubbed the sweat dripping profusely from his forehead. "It was just a dream." He squinted repeatedly, trying to clear the cobwebs clinging to his eyelids.
Damn! If only it had really been just a dream.
Just several days ago, he was still single.
Until the truth told him otherwise.
He even had the paper to prove it.
"Fuck!"
Unable to go back to sleep, he changed into something comfortable, grabbed his keys, and left.
Dawn had barely broken when he stood inside a ring, ready to drive his frustration away.
Ding!
As soon as the bell rang, he watched Teddy cautiously, anticipating his next move.
After a few seconds of sizing each other up, he moved his arm and threw the first punch.
Teddy parried and came over the top with a cross, easily dodging his attack.
"Teddy, aim for the head…" George, the gym's trainer, instructed from the corner posts. "Don't let Julian take the upper hand."
Teddy counterattacked with a mean hook. But he warded it off by moving his head to the side, missing his chin by an inch.
"That's close." One of the other fighters hollered fervently, watching the fight behind the rope.
As he moved around the raised platform, his sparring partner lifted his arms and exposed a portion of his ribcage. Without hesitation, he quickly jabbed at his opponent's side.
After his fist connected with Teddy's ribs, he returned to a steady stance, readying for a takedown or a counter. But Teddy easily recovered.
"You have to do better than that," Teddy said mockingly, bumping his gloves together as if daring him to come closer.
If he had hurt him, the six-foot MMA fighter just shrugged it off.
With a push kick, Teddy aimed for his hip. But he easily blocked it with his arms.
Keeping his hands up high to protect his face, he drove his shin toward Teddy's thigh.
"Fuck, Teddy." George clamped his hands, visibly disgruntled with his student's performance. "Watch your left. He's going for the kill."
But the trainer's warning was too late.
Shuffling his feet, he switch-kicked toward Teddy's head.
The impact made Teddy lose his balance. He stumbled a little before he quickly got back on his feet.
"Damn! You almost took his head off." Jarvis commented, cheering for him on the side.
Even the other fighters looked like they were enjoying the show as they slowly picked their favorite.
"He would have…" Another fighter said. "If this had been a real fight."
Indeed, if this had been a life-and-death situation, the outcome would have been different.
"Ok… That's enough for now." George rang the bell and stopped the training session. "You did well, Teddy." He patted the young man encouragingly.
"You still need work, but you definitely improved these last few weeks." He also complimented the young man.
"Julian…" George waited as he exited the ring. "Thanks for personally training the kid."
It was nothing. He didn't mind helping out when he had some spare time.
Besides, this gym had always been his second home, even before he left for the army.
"Well, Teddy has a lot of potential." He peeled off his gloves and dumped them into his bag. "It would be a shame to waste it." He added.
"And I kept telling you, George…" He looked around the room filled with sports equipment. "You need to hire some help around here."
George wasn't exactly getting any younger.
He remembered his father had hired George to teach him self-defense when he was around ten. From then on, George became his mentor, not only in combat, but in life in general.
Eventually, George had become his second father. Honestly, he was more like a father to him than his real father ever was.
In fact, since returning from service, he had been in the gym more times than he had visited his actual home.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah!" But George only waved him off. Stubborn as always.
With a clean towel, he wiped the sweat dripping down his face, smiling at the older man's obstinacy.
"George, can I borrow Julian for a sec…"
In the corner of his eye, he saw Jarvis strolling toward him.
"What did you dig up?" He finally asked once George had left them alone.
It had been three days since he had discovered his marital status.
So far, he knew that his wife's name was Amira Spencer. His commanding officer, Colonel Reed, officiated the wedding.
Unfortunately, a dead man couldn't answer any more questions. Colonel Reed had already passed away a few years ago.
Anyway, from what he could remember, he had only slept with one woman that night.
Was it her?
Was Amira Spencer the same woman from that night?
"Amira Spencer… 33 years old… currently a doctor at Sacred Heart Medical Center." Jarvis recited the report in his hand.
"According to this, she was a volunteer doctor during that time at your base. Her team was performing a medical mission in some nearby towns." Jarvis continued.
It all added up. If the report was accurate, then it could be her.
Then, Jarvis pulled out a photo from the file.
"Do you recognize her?" Jarvis studied the picture and whistled. "Damn! I doubt whether you'd forget a face like that." He remarked and handed the photo to him.
As soon as he saw those distinctive green eyes, his eyes dilated. Recognition was evident.
"Yeah! I do." He finally put the pieces together.
It was her.
What he thought was just part of a dream was actually a memory he had somehow suppressed.
"Damn! So, I did marry her." He concluded, carefully inspecting the picture in his hand.
He realized her face had changed compared to what he remembered. Still, undoubtedly, her maturity had only made her more captivating.
"So, does it mean… she's not married yet?" He asked. "I mean… if we are still married."
"Legally, she could not marry anyone else," Jarvis confirmed with a quick nod.
"Do you think she's aware that we are married?" He wondered.
"I don't know? Probably not." Jarvis looked as clueless as he was.
He still had a ton of questions, but sadly, the only person left who could answer them was the other name on the marriage certificate.
If she knew, why hadn't she approached him? What was her end game?
If not, why was she still single? At her age, shouldn't she be married by now?
"The only way to get answers is to get them directly from the horse's mouth." He stated flatly, not wanting to prolong the inevitable.
***
After blowing off some steam, he stood outside his wife's apartment, preparing to knock.
What was he going to say?
"Hey, remember me? From seven years ago. By the way, I'm your husband."
But what if she had already forgotten about that night?
Then, he would have to force her to remember.
What about a more direct approach?
"I'm Julian Hawthorn. I'm your husband."
It still didn't feel right.
Damnit! He had fought countless battles in war zones and faced numerous boardroom negotiations without even batting an eye.
So why was he anxious now?
It was not like he was going to war.
Actually, he was only going to ask for a divorce.
"How hard could it be?"
At any rate, he hadn't expected what happened next when she opened the door.
Spontaneously, he froze when his eyes landed on her. For a minute, his world seemed to stop as he openly gawked at her, leaving his jaw hanging open.
Whatever she said was lost with the wind as memories of that night flooded his mind.
At that moment, all he could think of was that fateful night and the wedding.
"…But just in case, I have a copy here…"
Eventually, he snapped out of his trance as he finally caught her last words.
"Excuse me?" Obviously, he was clueless.
Then, after he attempted to clarify the situation, she cut him off, leaving him with more questions than answers.
"Ok. Fine… You're hired."
He was definitely not expecting that.
His eyes finally wandered around the room, wondering if he had somehow ended up in the wrong place. But upon double-checking, he believed he was where he was supposed to be.
Just as he thought things wouldn't get any worse.
"Kids?"
Two young toddlers ran down the stairs.
Twins?
"Julian, these are my kids." Amira pointed to the two adorable kids. "Myko… Aisla… this is Julian Hawthorn."
A second.
A minute.
He stood like a statue, just staring into two pairs of innocent eyes.
"He's the new Manny."
Then, finally, like a lightbulb switch, it clicked. He suddenly realized that his wife had mistaken him for the nanny.
But before he could correct the misunderstanding, his wife shoved the contract into his hand. "My emergency contact number is in there."
Next, she scooped her kids into her arms. "Behave." It looked like she gave her children a silent warning. Then she walked out the door, obviously leaving the kids under his care.
"Fuck!" He cursed under his breath.
Was that woman crazy? Why would she leave her kids with a stranger?
More importantly, what did he know about handling toddlers, or kids in general?
"Hey, there are kids here." The young girl said, pouting. "You shouldn't be saying foul words." Her fists landed on her hips.
Her eyes had narrowed into a slit. Reprimanding.
"You just broke Mom's third rule." Meanwhile, her twin pointed out.
"I suggest you read the contract if you don't want to get fired on your first day," Myko said, his eyes watching him like a specimen under a microscope.
Myko suddenly reminded him of his high school teacher as he adjusted his glasses on the small bridge of his nose. Then the teacher ordered him to detention after he broke a rule.
Meanwhile, the sweet, lovely girl sat on the sofa, silently playing with her doll.
"Look… Myko." He ran his fingers through his hair, quickly analyzing the situation. "Clearly, there is a mistake here."
He was an Army Major, commanding battalions of soldiers and leading them to victory.
He was also the CEO of a multi-billion-dollar company, ruling boardrooms and presiding over hundreds of negotiations.
He was definitely no nanny. He would never chase two kids for meals and baths or tuck them into bed.
No! That was not happening.
He came here to end this farce of a marriage, not to play house.
He was an officer, not a babysitter.