I dropped my bag lazily on the kitchen counter, the strap slipping off my shoulder like it was just as tired of the day as I was. Lectures had drained me, and I’d spent the rest of it hunched over my laptop, trying to wrestle those quizzes off my back before they became a problem I couldn’t outrun. I poured a glass of water, the tap hissing into the silence, and took a slow sip — the kind that made you feel like maybe, just maybe, you had a little control over your life.
I opened the drawer and stared at the pills the doctor had prescribed. They’d been sitting there for a month. I just stared at them before closing the drawer quickly.
My phone buzzed on the counter. I glanced at the screen, then picked it up with a sigh and pressed it to my ear.
“Zara.”
My mom’s voice came through, soft but tight — like she'd been holding her breath all day.
“Mom.”
“You’re okay, baby? The doctor called.”
Seriously?6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQAWydQE6jy
What happened to doctor–patient confidentiality? Yeah, they knew each other, but I was still her patient—not just some friend’s daughter.
“I’m fine. Just… things are hectic. School, the job. You know how it is.”
“I told you I don’t want you working,” she said, and there it was — the same line, same tone, like we hadn’t had this conversation a dozen times already. “I want you focused on your degree.”
She’d never liked the idea of me working part-time. Said it was too much on my plate. Said the bursary should be enough. And to be fair, it covered tuition, some expenses, even most of my textbooks — and chipped in a bit toward rent, but not all. I never brought that up to her. I could handle the rest — and it wasn’t much, especially with Emma. The job at the coffee shop? That was mine. My freedom. My savings. My choice.
“I know. I know. And like I said before — if I can’t cope, I’ll leave it.”
“You promise?”
“I do.”
There was a pause, long enough to stretch into something fragile.
“Mom…”6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLrdIOY9pJU
I swallowed, my throat suddenly dry again. “Can I ask you something?”
“Of course, baby.”
I hesitated, fingers curling around the edge of the counter like I needed something to hold onto.
“Do you have any idea who my real parents are?”
The words just rolled like they’d been sitting on the edge of my tongue all day.
There was a silence.
Not the kind that meant she didn’t hear me.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡlUQ9KVRAAA
The kind that meant she had.
My heart thudded, a slow, steady beat that felt suddenly too loud in the quiet kitchen. I could hear her breathing on the other end — shallow, uneven — like I’d just cracked open something she’d buried a long time ago.
“Why are you asking me that?” she said finally. Her voice was low. Careful.
I let out a shaky breath and leaned back against the counter, staring at the empty glass in my hand. “I don’t know. I just… lately, it’s been on my mind.”
“That’s not an answer, Zara.”
Of course it wasn’t.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡvfJJQN761e
Not to her.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡeLbdgMmuYw
She wanted reasons, evidence, a full-blown thesis on why the question existed at all. But it wasn’t that simple. It never had been.
“Do you know?” I asked again, more softly this time. “Because if you do… I need you to tell me.”
She sighed. A deep, weary thing that sounded like it came from the soles of her feet. “No… They never reveal any information about the real parents when a child is adopted. Not unless something goes through the courts — or unless the parents leave something behind. A letter. A name. Anything.”
She paused, and in that silence I could hear it — the edge in her voice, that ache she tried so hard to swallow. “There was nothing, Zara. Just you. Just this tiny girl with stubborn eyes who didn’t cry, didn’t speak for weeks. Just watched. Like she was already learning how to survive.”
My fingers curled tightly around the glass. I didn’t mean to — it just happened. Like every emotion in me was trying to find somewhere to go.
“I’m sorry,” I said quietly. “I didn’t mean it like that. I wasn’t trying to—”
“I know you weren’t.”
I could feel it then — the heaviness in her words. Like I’d poked something too raw, too sacred, and now I didn’t know how to close it back up.
She had been nothing but loving.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡkcFckNitqj
Since the day she took me in at seven — wild-haired, too quiet, still flinching at the sound of doors — she’d never made me feel like I was less. Never once used the word adopted as if it meant I didn’t belong.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡQMDIVhD0AP
She was the one who sat on the bathroom floor with me the first time I got my period. The one who showed up to every parent-teacher meeting, even when I pretended not to care. The one who learned to braid my hair because I hated the school assistant doing it.
I owed her everything.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ60O5m8D15D
So why did this still ache like a missing limb?
6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLyBXVP9zRm
“Nurse!”
A faint voice sounded in the background — rushed, urgent, followed by what sounded like someone describing a near-death experience through sobs and shallow breaths.
“Baby, can I call you later on? I’m needed in a ward,” she said quickly, her voice growing fainter, already halfway gone.
“Yeah,” I murmured. “Go. It’s fine.”
She didn’t say goodbye — she never really did when she was working. Just the sound of her footsteps fading, a rustle of fabric, and then the line went dead.
I stared at the screen for a second before locking it. Then just stood there, letting the silence crawl back in.
It was always like this — some moment we couldn’t finish. Some truth half-spoken, sealed back up and buried under duty. That was the thing about having a mother who gave everything to everyone else — sometimes you learned to keep your own needs small. To ration your questions. To pretend it didn’t still gnaw at you, even when it did.
I turned to the sink and rinsed the glass. My fingers shook a little, not from the call itself, but the aftertaste of it. The guilt. The confusion. The fact that no matter how much she gave… some part of me still wanted more. More answers. More truth. Something closer to blood.
Was that ungrateful? Selfish?
Probably.
But I was tired of wondering who I came from. What kind of woman left her kid behind without even a name. What kind of man helped make me and never once looked back. Was there addiction involved? Abuse? Or worse — was I simply unwanted?
Some nights, I could handle not knowing. Other nights…
Other nights, it felt like I was stitched together wrong, and no one could see the thread but me.
Most importantly, I wanted answers about the dreams.
That was the thing keeping me up at night. The thing clawing at the inside of my skull even when everything else was quiet. Not just the missing pieces of my childhood — but the way my mind kept trying to feed me something. Like it knew something I didn’t. Like it was begging me to remember.
But there was nothing. Just dream-fragrances. Blurred things that didn’t hold when I woke up. And no matter how many times I tried stitching the edges together, hoping they’d form a full memory — they didn’t. Just scattered flashes.
Bare feet on wet ground.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2xUrZLZW53
Running.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡir39zvXfOf
Heavy breathing.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡKtgQeqywG1
A voice calling my name — but not the name I knew. Something different. Older. Sharper.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡyNRFQqv3mF
And heat.6Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡzEoRCFJZ7n
Always heat.
I’d wake up sweating, my heart racing like I’d lived it, not dreamed it. And it was getting worse lately. More frequent. More vivid. Like something inside me was breaking open slowly. Like something was coming for me.
And the worst part?
I didn’t know if I wanted it to.
Because I was scared. But I was also desperate. Desperate to know. Desperate to understand why, at nineteen, I still felt like a guest in my own body sometimes. Like some part of me belonged to a different life.
A different world.
Why now? Why were these dreams suddenly so loud — so sharp — like someone had turned the volume up on a memory I didn’t agree to keep?
I didn’t have answers.
But I knew I couldn’t keep pretending it was nothing. I couldn’t keep pretending I was just a normal girl, working at a coffee shop, juggling quizzes and caffeine.
Something was wrong. And I wasn’t sure if it was about to ruin me… or reveal me.
I went to my room and pulled out something warmer for the night. Last night at Kai’s, my feet nearly froze — lesson learned. Tonight, I was dressing like I had beef with the cold.
As I zipped up my jacket, the front door creaked open, followed by voices — giggles, breathy and unmistakable. Emma’s. And a deeper one. I stepped into the hallway just in time to catch them tangled together, mid-makeout. Right there. In the hallway.
I cleared my throat. Loud enough to slice through whatever soft, wet sound was happening between them.
Emma pulled back first, licking her mouth like it was no big deal. At least she had the decency to look mildly apologetic.
“I didn’t know you’d be home,” she said, adjusting her top like she hadn’t just had someone’s tongue halfway down her throat.
“Hi,” Dean chimed in lazily.
Tousled blonde hair. That smug, post-makeout glow. The golden retriever type — all effortless charm and horny optimism. Third-year Graphic Design and Illustration student, and from what I gathered, an on-and-off fixture in Emma’s life. Childhood friends, maybe. Now conveniently reunited in varsity with a conveniently upgraded relationship. Or situationship. Or whatever the hell this was.
“Hi,” I muttered, dragging myself past them.
“You going out?” BringEmma asked, following me into the room while Dean flopped onto the couch like he owned the place.
“Yeah. Still owe that psych paper. And I need to be out of the house,” I added, pointedly glancing at Dean.
Emma raised a brow, half-smiling like she caught the subtext but wasn’t going to apologize for it.
I didn’t expect her to.
She really needed to invest in some soundproofing for that room of hers. No joke. My hearing had been off lately — hypersensitive, like my body was trying to punish me for having ears in the first place. Thankfully, I still had my earphones. Lifesavers. Emma usually timed things right, got her business done while I was still buried in the library. Either that or she made sure to be out before I got back. I guess that was her way of trying to keep me halfway sane. Sometimes she got it right. Sometimes I just got unlucky.
I zipped my bag and checked my phone. A message from Kai.
“I'm outside, Bring snacks for the road. The good kind. None of that healthy stuff.”
I almost smiled.
Almost.
I snatched an apple off the counter and grabbed a packet of chips from the cabinet, shoved my charger into the side pocket, and slung the bag over my shoulder. Emma was now curled into Dean’s side on the couch like this was some indie romance montage. I avoided eye contact and slid my keys into my pocket.
“Don’t wait up,” I muttered as I opened the door.
Emma called after me, “Text if you need anything.”
I gave a half-assed wave. She meant well. She always meant well. But tonight, I just needed air. Silence. Something that didn’t sound like skin slapping against skin through thin-ass drywall.
The hallway smelled like someone’s burnt dinner and weed. I took the stairs instead of the elevator.
I didn’t know what I was looking for exactly — clarity, distraction, a dream that made sense for once. Maybe all of it. Maybe none. But I knew one thing for sure:
I walked down. The cab was already waiting, humming low under the streetlamps. I slid into the backseat without a word, dropping into the seat beside Kai.
She barely glanced up, one arm slung across the backrest, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone like we had all the time in the world.
“I thought Axel was coming,” I said, shutting the door behind me.
Kai didn’t look up, “He knows the way.”
Of course he did. Kai was like that — always five steps ahead, never too pressed. She made chaos look like choreography. Even the silence felt intentional with her.
The cab pulled off, headlights cutting through the night. I stared straight ahead, feeling the warmth of her thigh barely grazing mine.
“Going to the North Pole or what?” she said, eyeing me like I’d lost it.
I couldn’t even blame her. Hoodie, thick jacket zipped up, and yeah — I’d layered two damn pairs of pants. It was technically still summer, but my body hadn’t gotten the memo. Nights felt like punishment lately. Thin frame, zero insulation. And with her place buried between trees and mountains like some isolated horror movie set, I wasn’t taking chances.
“Laugh all you want,” I muttered, dragging the sleeves lower. “I’m not freezing my ass off again.”
“You were freezing yesterday and you didn’t say anything?” she asked, turning toward me with that half-annoyed, half-worried tone.
“Like what was I supposed to say? ‘Hey Kai, I think my ass went numb?’” I shot her a look. “I couldn't feel half my body. I don’t know how the hell you survive up there.”
She snorted. “Maybe 'cause I’m not built like a dying leaf.”
“I’m built like a dancer,” I said, flipping my hood up. “Delicate and expensive.”
She rolled her eyes but smiled, pulling her legs up on the seat like the cold didn’t bother her at all. “Delicate my ass. You need thicker blood or a better jacket.”
“I need central heating and a hot water bottle. Maybe a will to live.”
The drive was warm, and not just from the heater — we passed chips back and forth, laughing more than we should’ve.
Kai hopped out first as soon as the cab pulled into the driveway, slamming the door behind her before I could even finish adjusting my hoodie. She never waited — just assumed I’d follow.
I did.
The night air bit at my face, but I was layered up like a paranoid grandma. Nothing hit. Not even the wind. I smiled to myself. Perfect.
The car I nearly lost my senses in yesterday sat outside like it owned the damn place. Nathan was around? So much for keeping the distance.
Kai didn’t even blink. She just opened the door and strolled in like I’d been hanging around here for years. I hadn’t.
Her mom greeted us again, keys in one hand, her phone pressed to the side of her cheek. Still somehow looking ten out of ten, even in scrubs. She worked in the city — Heart surgeon, apparently. If I had her face, I’d probably be saving lives and breaking hearts too. I half-joked to myself that I wouldn’t mind getting sick just to end up in her ward.
Kai had mentioned once that her dad and aunt were still in meetings, something vague, something far. I didn’t press it. They weren’t here now, and apparently, they’d be back later on. The house was quiet. But in my head, it wasn’t. Somewhere, I was expecting—
No. Cut it, Zara.
Kai tossed her bag onto the couch and yanked me toward the kitchen. “Snacks and drinks while we wait for Axel,” she said like it was tradition.
She flung open a cupboard like a woman on a mission and dumped a mix of chips, cookies, juice and a suspiciously half-eaten chocolate slab onto the counter.
We talked for a while — girl stuff, kind of. Favourite movies, hobbies. Nails. Hair. This girl from school who got caught sneaking out with someone’s older brother. I nodded, listened, threw in a few sarcastic jabs.
But in the middle of it, while Kai was laughing about something dumb I’d said, I found myself glancing at the door again.
Half-expecting a shadow to cross it. Half-hoping it wouldn’t.
“Kai?” Axel’s voice floated in after a few minutes, followed by the soft thud of the front door clicking shut.
“In here!” Kai yelled back, still half-leaning over the counter, head tilted as she picked apart a cookie like it owed her money.
I stayed where I was, arms crossed, juice box half-crushed in my palm.
A beat later, Axel strolled in, his hoodie halfway on, curls a mess like he’d just rolled out of bed or maybe didn’t care enough to fix them. “See? I made it.”
“Congratulations,” Kai deadpanned. “Only took you forever.”
“Traffic,” he said with a lopsided grin, then paused when he saw me. “Hey.”
“Hi,” I said, casual. Like I hadn’t been wondering if Nathan would be the one walking in instead. Like I wasn’t relieved it wasn’t.
Axel moved past us, stealing one of the better snacks and leaning on the fridge like it was normal for him to show up late and steal food.
“Don’t take the chocolate,” Kai warned.
He took the chocolate.
Kai rolled her eyes, tossing a chip at him. He dodged like he’d done it a hundred times.
And just like that, it felt… normal. A little too normal. Enough that my guard slipped for a second.
But then there was movement upstairs — a sound.
Footsteps.
My spine straightened before I even registered why.
I didn’t turn. I didn’t have to.
I just knew.
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