A military officer in full dress uniform stood on the porch.
"Are you Camila, ma'am?" the officer asked, voice calm but commanding.
She straightened. "Yes. Is there a problem?"
The officer gave a small nod, then glanced past her, scanning the room. His eyes landed on me.
"Which one of you is Chelsea?" he asked.
My breath caught. "I am."
Something in his expression softened slightly.
"We're here on behalf of Staff Sergeant Martin," he said. "I have a letter to deliver, by his instructions, on this date. This is Shinia, our military attorney.
My stomach dropped.
"Your father was very specific," the officer added gently. "He asked us to deliver this on the night of your prom. He wanted to be sure we were here in person."
The woman stepped forward, opening the
