Chapter 3
I went back to my room, pulled out my suitcase, and packed up the things I'd already set aside. I didn't take much—never dared to claim more than a little from this home.
When I opened the drawer, I found a family photo buried deep in the back. It was taken when I was five. I was standing at the very edge, Camila in the center, with Mom and Dad on either side of her.
Everyone was beaming in the picture.
Except me. I was smiling, shy and cautious, trying not to draw attention.
I flipped the photo over, but there was nothing written on the back.
After thinking it over, I decided to leave the photo behind in the drawer.
When I rolled my suitcase out of the room, everyone was still gathered in the living room.
Mom saw the suitcase and finally stood up, her lips quivering for ages before she managed to ask, "Where... where are you going?"
"Somewhere I don't have to pretend to be family," I replied.
My voice was steady.
Mom opened her mouth, then closed it again. Tears streamed down her face, but she couldn't get a single word out.
Dad didn't stand up. He didn't even look at me.
He just stared at the signed waiver on the coffee table, like a statue.
Camila lounged on the couch, legs crossed. "Honestly, it's better this way—less trouble for us in the future."
Her boyfriend chimed in, "Yeah, they've been feeding you for years for nothing, and you still want a cut of the money?"
I didn't look back.
Dragging my suitcase out the door, the sunlight hit me hard. I paused at the doorway, giving one last glance to the house I'd spent more than twenty years in.
The living room window downstairs was open, and I could hear Camila talking to the real estate guy, her voice loud and laughing, like she didn't have a care in the world.
No one came after me.
No one called my name.
I pulled up the handle of my suitcase and turned and walked away.
In the taxi, I leaned against the window, watching the city streets and buildings slip by, fading into the distance behind me.
My phone buzzed. It was Lily. [Did you sign it?]
[Yeah.]
[Are you okay?]
I stared at her message on the screen for a long time.
"Am I really okay?" I asked myself.
Honestly... I didn't know.
For twenty years, I had been acting like everything's fine—pretending it didn't matter when I got bullied, pretending it didn't hurt when I was ignored, pretending that being called "the adopted one" didn't break me inside.
I had been pretending for twenty years. But now, I just couldn't fake it anymore.
I didn't text Lily back.
Instead, I opened my social media and wrote a post that only I could see.
[Since I was five, I always knew this family wasn't really mine. Now, I finally don't have to pretend anymore.]
After posting, I locked my phone and didn't bother to look at it again.
The scenery outside the window was getting more and more unfamiliar. I'd left the neighborhood where I grew up, and the home where I never dared to laugh freely.
The taxi radio was playing, and the host said it was a beautiful day—perfect for going outside.
And then the tears came. Not crying, really. Just two quiet trails running down my face without a word
I didn't wipe them away.
All the pain and grievances I'd swallowed for twenty years finally overflowed in that moment.
I was terrified they'd send me back to the orphanage, so I endured it all for twenty years.
I was afraid my parents would abandon me, so I never fought for anything.
I was scared there was no place for me in this family, so I made myself stand at the edge, always out of the way.
But now, I was not afraid anymore.
Because I finally admitted it; there was never a place for me in this family.
The ride felt endless. My tears dried up, my stomach started rumbling, and I finally got the courage to pull out my phone and text Lily.
[I'm here.]
Three seconds later, she shot back a single word.
[Okay.]
She sent another message.
[I'm at the café. Hurry back.]
I held my phone and finally smiled.
Just a little one.
But it was the most genuine smile I'd had in days.
As soon as I got out of the taxi, I saw Lily waiting for me outside her café.
Funny how fate worked. On the day I was supposed to meet my online boyfriend, I waited here for two hours, but he never showed up. That was how Lily and I crossed paths and became friends.
She was holding two cups of coffee, looked me up and down, didn't say a word, just shoved a hot coffee into my hand and dragged me into the back room.
She sat down, looked around, and her gaze settled on the adoption certificate I'd tossed onto the table.
"Is this the one?" Lily asked, pointing at it.
I nodded.
She picked it up and opened it to take a look.
I sat down next to her, already ready for her to go off. I knew Lily's temper—her first reaction to something like this would definitely be, "Your parents are nuts."
But she didn't say a word.
She stared at the photo for a long time.
I started to feel like something wasn't right.
Lily suddenly looked up at me. "Sophia, the girl in this photo... that's not you."
I paused, then leaned in for a better look. The girl in the photo had single-lidded eyes, her hair pulled back in a ponytail, and she was smiling widely, showing her two big front teeth.
"That's me. It's my adoption certificate," I insisted.
"But look, the name section is smudged with a marker," Lily said, holding the document up for me to see. "And your sister's name is almost the same as yours. What if it's her name that's covered up?"
She fired off, "And the most important thing is, the adoption date is 2002! You were born in 2002—you weren't even born yet!"
I looked down.