Return of the Disabled Commander

"Honey, let me help you take off your clothes." "This is the last time I'll bathe you." "We've been engaged for so many years, but we've never been together. Tonight, let do it for the first time." The steamy air filled the dimly lit bathroom, with droplets of water slowly trailing down the walls. The entire space was drenched in a humid atmosphere. In the bathtub, the man was completely n***d, his bronze skin crisscrossed with scars. Though the wounds had long since scabbed over, they still bore silent testimony to the endless battles he had fought. The man was Nine-Star Commander, Bruce Moss, and the woman beside him was his fiancée, Ezra Meyers. Ezra knelt by the side of the tub, holding a damp cloth in her hand, gently wiping Bruce's body. Although she had bathed him countless times, every time her hand brushed against his firm lower body, she couldn't help but blush. Her heart was filled with both reverence and endless sorrow. Bruce's lower body, with its defined muscular lines, spoke of the authority he once commanded. But when the cloth touched his upper body, the picture shattered. His head slumped weakly against the edge of the bathtub, a sticky trail of drool clinging to his lips. His once bright eyes were now dull and vacant. His expression was strange and helpless, and his once-handsome face had grown haggard. Once a Nine-Star Commander who dominated the battlefield, Bruce was now a half-witted, broken man. "Is it too hot?" Ezra asked softly, placing the cloth on Bruce's shoulder. Bruce merely stared at her without moving, his lips curling into a faint smile as if trying to respond. But his unfocused gaze was like that of a child who couldn't understand the world around him. Bruce had lost his ability to take care of himself due to nerve damage. This man, who once stood over 6 feet 2 inches tall and ruled the battlefield, now relied on Ezra's help just to sit in the bathtub. He spent most of his time confined to a wheelchair. Her reflection shimmered on the water's surface, her long blonde hair loosely draped over her shoulders. Her eyes were filled with a complex mix of emotions. She wore a simple white dress that hugged her graceful figure, her skin pale and smooth. In this damp, steamy environment, her beauty was even more striking. But at this moment, her beauty was tinged with deep sorrow. "Bruce, three years ago you told me you were going on a top-secret mission and promised me that you'd marry me when you came back. But why... why did you come back like this?" Her voice trembled as tears welled up in her eyes, but she held them back. "I've been waiting for you all this time. No matter how much my family pressured me to give up on you, I never wavered. I gave up everything for you—left my family behind and tried to make it on my own because I believed you'd come back and face everything with me." Ezra's hand traced over the scars on Bruce's shoulder, her voice weary and filled with resignation. "But reality has been too cruel. My company has gone bankrupt, the rent is almost due, and for Grandma's birthday, I can't even afford a decent gift..." "Bruce, I'm really exhausted..." Ezra's voice choked with emotion, and silent tears finally slipped down her cheeks. She bit her lip, her hands trembling slightly. "I don't know how much longer I can hold on..." The bathroom fell into a heavy silence. Bruce, still lost in his stupor, could not respond to her pain. Only the gentle sound of water rippled between them. Suddenly, Ezra stopped what she was doing and lifted her gaze to meet Bruce's eyes. "I'm leaving. They're forcing me to marry Kellan Diaz, the young master of the Diaz family... If you could just speak one coherent sentence, I would have a reason not to marry him." Her words seemed to pierce through Bruce. His body trembled slightly, and his hands shook violently. In a garbled, broken voice, he mumbled, "Don't... go..." He struggled to extend his right hand and weakly grasped the back of Ezra's hand, his eyes filled with helplessness and fear. Ezra felt a pang of pain in her heart, but she stubbornly shook her head. "Even though we were never formally engaged, and there was no blessed wedding, for the past three years, I've always considered you the closest person to me..." She gently pulled her hand away and began to unbutton the front of her dress. "You're my husband. My first night should be yours." Before she could finish, the bathroom door was suddenly thrown open with a loud bang, and a furious voice interrupted them. "Ezra! What on earth are you doing?" Ezra spun around in shock, seeing her mother, Vernie Meyers, standing angrily in the doorway, with Kellan smirking coldly behind her. Vernie's face was flushed red with rage as she pointed at Bruce lying in the bathtub, shouting, "Why are you still bathing this cripple? Young master Diaz has been waiting for you outside for a long ti`me. You're getting engaged today!" Ezra's face went pale, and she quickly stood up, hurriedly pulling her clothes back on. "Mom, please close the door. It's cold outside—Bruce will catch a cold." Vernie snorted in disdain. "Catch a cold? A paralyzed cripple—what's the difference between him and a corpse? How long are you going to stay entangled with this useless man?" Ezra clenched her teeth, swallowing the anger rising within her. She knew this situation wouldn't end peacefully today, so she lowered her voice and pleaded, "Mom, just give me a little more time. I'll clean Bruce up, and then I'll leave with you." Vernie scoffed, turning to Kellan with a smirk. "Why wait? Let's just settle the engagement today!" Kellan's lips curled into a sinister smile as he slowly approached the bathtub, towering over Bruce. "Ezra, don't worry. Today I'll let you understand what real happiness feels like." He finished speaking and gave a nod to Vernie, signaling that she could leave. With a look of satisfaction, Vernie strode over to the bathtub and, in a sudden burst of anger, kicked it hard, shouting, "Let me help you clean up!" There was a deafening crash as the bathtub toppled over, water splashing everywhere. Bruce's head slammed against the corner of the wall, and he instantly lost consciousness. But after everyone had left, the seemingly unconscious Bruce slowly opened his eyes. His gaze turned cold and sharp in an instant. With a slight lift of his hand, he easily overturned the bathtub that had been pinning him down. The eyes that had once led countless battles now blazed again with an unstoppable fighting spirit. "I, Bruce... have returned," he murmured, his gaze sharp like a predator's. Bruce reached for the phone on the table and dialed a number buried deep in his memory. "Hello," a voice from the other side answered, steady and resolute. It was Joey Miller, Bruce's loyal chief bodyguard. "It's me," Bruce said quietly, his tone carrying a cold edge. "Boss! You... you're awake?!" Joey's voice suddenly trembled, filled with shock and joy. "You've been completely off the radar, and the guys have been losing their minds." "Joey, it's me," Bruce continued, closing his eyes. "Keep it quiet. I need to stay undercover for now. I can't be exposed." "Understood. I've been keeping tabs on your situation from the shadows. Your men are ready at a moment's notice, just waiting for your command!" Joey's voice was filled with unwavering loyalty. A sense of warmth surged through Bruce's chest. There were still people in this world who truly believed in him. Pressing his lips together, he spoke in a firm tone, "Prepare some medication to help with my leg injury. I need to regain mobility. Also, get me a bank card and a few sets of clothes. I'll need time to slowly rebuild my strength." "Got it! I'll take care of everything right away!" Joey responded without hesitation.