Chapter 19 - The Reflection
That evening, I sat alone in my private quarters on base, looking out through the reinforced glass at the sprawling parade grounds bathed in the golden light of dusk.
I unpinned my service ribbons, placed them neatly in their velvet case, and unbuttoned my jacket.
For the first thirty years of my life, I had believed that love and respect were currencies to be earned from people who handed them out conditionally—currencies reserved for the golden sons, the loud storytellers, and the people who knew how to put on a good show.
I had spent decades trying to satisfy an impossible audit, constantly being told I was falling short, looking cheap, or disappearing into the background.
Looking back at the woman in the mirror now, I realized how absurd it all was.
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I hadn't been invisible. I had simply been growing in silence, building a foundation of strength that no amount of wine, mockery, or family politics could ever stain or wash away.
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