I took my son to visit my husband, the commander, but the guard blocked us at the gate and said, “His girlfriend is inside the unit. No visitors!” I covered my son’s ears, called my second brother, and

eyes.

For the first time since the gate, he did not argue.

“What do I do?”

Olivia studied him.

Years earlier, that question would have drawn her back. She would have built him a path, softened the consequences, and called it marriage.

Not anymore.

“You tell the truth,” she said. “Then you keep telling it, especially when it costs you.”

She walked away.

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