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I was left to deal with everything that had been arranged for me. My leg couldn’t be fixed; it had been too long, and it was completely deformed
now.
I thought they might comfort me, but instead, my brother was soothing his so–called sister, afraid she might be scared.
I even overheard that he and his friends
privately called me “the cripple.”
This place felt so foreign, so strange, as if it was no longer my home.
But at least I had Grandpa. He still loved me.
Then, I met Kevin.
That day, my brother locked me out of the
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house as a prank, leaving me to bake in the
harsh sun.
But despite my pleas, he refused to open the door. He said he was teaching me a lesson–for stealing the love that was meant for Yolanda.
At the time, Grandpa’s health wasn’t great. He had been staying in a nursing home for a while, but it was because of me that he moved back
into our house.
He was afraid someone might hurt me. Even so, my brother still took advantage of the time Grandpa went to visit an old friend to torment
- me.
The heat made me dizzy, and just then,
someone handed me a bottle of ice–cold drink.
He stood against the light, blocking the blinding
sun.
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“Get up. I’ll take you inside.”
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After that one encounter, I found myself drawn to him.
But as fate would have it, he was Yolanda’s boyfriend.
They had promised each other they would both get into Princeton University.
I was like a rat in the sewers, lurking in the shadows, silently watching their love.
Grandpa must have sensed something. He told me that Kevin and I were betrothed.
He reassured me that I would get what I wanted.
I couldn’t believe it. I couldn’t believe that the boy standing against the sunlight was my fiancé.
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But it wasn’t just me who couldn’t believe it-
Yolanda couldn’t either.
When I turned nineteen, Grandpa made our
engagement public, revealing my identity and my betrothal to Kevin.
But Yolanda still didn’t break up with him.
They chose to fight against the engagement, and I considered stepping aside to let them be.
But just before our wedding, Yolanda threw a tantrum, planning to go abroad.
She said to me:
“Do you believe it? Kevin will definitely come after me.”
I stayed silent. It felt as though I was merely a temporary fixture in their lives, something to be
discarded when they wanted
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But then, the unexpected happened. The night before our wedding, Yolanda was in a car accident on her way to the airport.
She died instantly, and I became the villain in Kevin’s eyes.
Lopened my eyes. The glaring white light above was blinding. I suddenly felt so tired, wanting nothing more than to go home.
At three in the morning, I returned home.
But before I even crossed the threshold, a vase smashed against my head.
“Noelle, why don’t you just die!”
“Why, why is it that Yoli is dead and you’re still
alive?”
I touched my head, feeling the blood. I lifted my
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gaze to see the woman, her emotions spiraling
out of control.
That was my biological mother, but now she was shouting at me, just like Kevin, demanding my life in return.
I forced back the grief swelling in my chest and turned to head back to my room.
But my right leg gave way, and I realized it must have gotten worse.
“Noe, your mother… she’s just reacting to the news. Don’t be angry with her.”
“After all, Yoli’s our child.”
My father’s tired voice came from behind me. I
murmured a soft “Mm.”
For the past two years, ever since I returned,
he’s been telling me to just bear with it
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But I was human too. Yolanda was their
daughter was I not?
Didn’t they realize how much dignity I’d lost tonight?
Because their beloved adopted daughter threw a tantrum, I’m the one who has to bear the
consequences?
Was Yolanda’s death my fault?
I was utterly exhausted, yet I still forced myself to tend to my wounds.
I couldn’t help but feel a deep sorrow,
wondering what I even was.
Or perhaps, I had already made a mistake from the very moment I returned.
