Storms of the Heart novel Chapter 13

A bold, beautiful performer from the cultural troupe who had admired Julian for a long time finally saw her chance.

While the music and mood were lively, she walked up to Julian with a shy smile. Her gaze was bright and unwavering as she held out her hand to invite him to dance.

Around them, a few officers immediately started teasing. "Come on, General Hauser, you're a free man now. You should dance tonight!"

In the past, Julian would have only felt annoyed. He would have turned her down coldly and walked away.

But as he looked at her shy, hopeful face, he could only think of Trina dancing wildly back then, drawing every eye to her as if the whole dance floor belonged to her.

Compared to Trina, the carefully made-up woman before him seemed plain and boring.

Julian shook his head coldly. He was about to leave when he heard a few drunk officers nearby talking loudly about Trina's divorce.

"Man, Trina is gorgeous. Nobody dared go near her when General Hauser was around. But now..."

"Yeah, I heard she's living it up overseas. Wonder if she's even wilder now..."

Their crude talk landed like sparks in a room full of gasoline.

Julian snapped. He turned, grabbed the loudest one by the collar, and punched him before anyone could react. His eyes were blazing with such fury that he looked as though he could kill someone.

The officer stumbled backward, knocking over a table and sending glasses and plates shattering across the floor.

The hall went dead silent.

Julian stood rigid, fury rolling off him in waves. His gaze cut through the crowd like a blade.

When he spoke, his voice wasn't loud, but it carried through every corner of the room. "Anyone who runs their mouth about my wife like that will face military discipline!"

He was still calling Trina his wife.

The word dropped into the silence like a stone.

The whole room stared at him in shock. No one understood why the newly divorced general was reacting like a man pushed past his breaking point.

That night, without even realizing it, Julian ended up driving back to the townhouse. It felt like he was torturing himself, yet he still walked straight into Trina's walk-in closet.

Most of her things were gone. Only a few of the clothes he had bought for her were left—the ones she had clearly said she didn't like.

In the most hidden corner, he spotted a dusty cardboard box.

He dragged the box out and opened it. For a moment, he forgot how to breathe.

There was nothing expensive inside. It was just a handful of small, ordinary things.

There was a neat stack of clipped newspaper articles—every piece that had ever mentioned him. The edges had curled and yellowed from being handled too often.

Then, there was a handful of candid photos of him in uniform, all taken from far-off angles, as if someone had been secretly peeking from behind a door or around a corner.

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