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On my eighteenth birthday, I spent 7 hundred dollars I'd painstakingly earned from my part-time job. I invited my parents and brother to a French restaurant. But, in the end, they stood me up. They went to Disneyland with my adopted sister, Luna. The fireworks on their Ins stories stung my eyes. I couldn't help but call, wanting to demand: Compared to Luna, aren't I your real family? But before I could even speak, Luna's voice chirped through the phone: "How could Mom and Dad celebrate your birthday? Don't you know you were actually picked up from a hospital dumpster?" In that moment, everything that had clouded my mind suddenly became clear. So, I wasn't their child. Then I didn't need to beg for their pathetic affection anymore. I filled out the application for Oxford University. Then I bought myself a one-way plane ticket to the UK. I wasn't coming back, ever. I closed the application page, took a deep breath, and my gaze finally fell upon the special dinner I'd arranged. For this one meal, I'd washed dishes in the school cafeteria kitchen for almost