me? I stood up and walked out before either of them could see me cry. By the time I got back to my small rental, my chest ached. I went inside, shut the door, and collapsed onto the bed without removing my boots. At first, I felt anger. Then humil:iation.
Then that old, familiar shame of realizing I had been the fool in a story everyone else understood before I did. But beneath all of that was something worse: grief. Because somewhere along the way, I had started to
