“You have steady pay. Military benefits. Housing. Food. You don’t have a family to support. We just need time.”
There it was.
Not apology.
Not gratitude.
Just need.
I should have walked out.
But the child inside me was still starving, still hoping that if I saved them, they would finally see me as family.
The next morning, I sat in my quarters before dawn, laptop open and CAC card inserted. The payroll screen lit my face blue-white.
I set up an allotment.
Sixty percent of my base pay went straight to the mortgage account.
Then I volunteered for every hard rotation I could take. Hazard pay. Sea pay. Separation allowance. Extra duty nobody wanted.
I told myself it was temporary.
Temporary became one month.
Then six.
Then twelve.
I sold my car and used base transportation. I canceled the waterfront apartment I had been saving for. I skipped leave. I stretched meals. I wore boots long past replacement.
