After returning home from three long tours, I received a message from my husband: “don’t bother coming back. I’ve changed the locks. the kids don’t want you. it’s finished.” I answered with just three words: “as you wish.” One call to my lawyer changed everything.

After three long tours overseas, I predicted to walk into the arms of my family. Instead, the moment I stepped off the plane at Memphis International, I received a text from my husband:

“Don’t bother coming back. The locks are altered. The kids don’t want you. It’s over.”

Three sentences. That’s how Derek ended fifteen years of marriage.

I stood frozen at the arrivals gate in full dress uniform, medals shining against my chest, duffel bag slung over my shoulder. Around me, civilians rushed to reunite with loved ones, laughter and tears filling the air. Yet my world collapsed in silence. I’d survived firefights in Afghanistan, only to be ambushed in my own homecoming.