She nodded. “Do you regret it? Letting them treat you like that?”
I looked toward the flag. “Regret is for things that do not matter. This mattered.”
Silence settled between us, not tense, but respectful.
I touched the bristles of my short hair, feeling strength in the uneven growth. “I came here to break without breaking. To learn whether this uniform still meant what it was supposed to. Today I know the answer.”
Lila smiled. “And what answer is that?”
“It means everything. As long as we demand it does.”
The wind rose, carrying away the last traces of who I had pretended to be.
