“If My Daughter’s A General, Then I’m A Ballerina,” He Said—Until The Doors Opened

was the only one that mattered.

“I didn’t run, Dad. I served.”

“Served.” He laughed. “Is that what they’re calling it now?”

Behind him, my mother approached, her expression carefully neutral.

“Allara,” she said. “It was… nice of you to come.”

Nice. The word hung between us like a white flag no one wanted to touch.

“I came because I wanted to see if you’d continue reading …