She flinched like I’d slapped her. After a beat, she picked up her purse and stood.
“I won’t argue with you. Just think about it.”
When the door closed behind her, I sat down again, hands shaking with anger. I had faced down arrogant officers, corrupt contractors, even men pointing rifles at me, but nothing compared to the sting of being dismissed by your own mother.
The next week passed in a haze of work, training schedules, supply checks, endless meetings. The army had a way of swallowing up your time, leaving little room for personal battles. But no matter how busy I kept myself, the sting didn’t fade. Every night when the lights went out, I saw Megan’s smug face and heard her words.
Then one evening, I got a text from her.
Just checking in. How’s life in your shack?
I didn’t respond. I deleted it and tossed my phone across the couch. She wasn’t just rubbing salt in the wound. She was daring me to react.
