I looked at all three of them—my mother already scanning the room for witnesses to reassure, my brother suppressing a laugh, my father adjusting his jacket as if I were an inconvenience that would resolve itself if ignored.
In that moment, something inside me finally settled.
“Okay,” I said.
The calm in my voice startled even me.
“I’ll go change.”
Aaron snorted. “Into what? A uniform from the gift shop?”
I didn’t answer.
I walked away.
The doors closed behind me, cutting off the music and the curated warmth, and I stood in the quiet hallway long enough to feel the humiliation finish its work. Then I exhaled slowly, the way I’d been trained to do in moments when emotion threatened judgment.
They didn’t know.
They had never asked.
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