The next morning was no different from the others. I woke up with the first rays of sunlight filtering through the window, and as always, my first act of the day was to make my bed. The pristine white sheets tightened under my fingers with the precision instilled in us since we were little.
Today, Lulu would be adopted. She would leave the only home we had known in our short lives, and a strange mix of joy and melancholy settled in my chest as I smoothed the last wrinkle from my bedspread.
While my hands worked mechanically, my mind wandered about those mysterious sponsors who sent gifts and later became adoptive parents.
Why did we never see them in person? Were they kind? Tall? Intelligent? Did they perhaps have the same crimson hair as me?
I let my imagination soar for a moment, conjuring kind faces I had never seen.
I shook my head to keep nostalgia from consuming me and headed to the bathroom. There, I washed my hands and face with meticulous care. In front of the mirror, I battled my rebellious, long crimson hair, trying to tame those tangled curls with a comb until, finally, I gave up halfway.
I returned to my room and took my white uniform from the wardrobe with reverence. The only clothing we were allowed to wear. As I slipped into it, feeling the immaculate, stiff fabric against my skin, I daydreamed about garments of different colors, textures, and designs I had never had the chance to touch.
—Some day —I whispered to myself as I fastened the last button.
Breakfast was a feast for the senses, as always. The table overflowed with mouthwatering delicacies: sweet porridge crowned with fresh fruit and golden honey that reflected the light; pancakes so fluffy they seemed to float above the plates; eggs with whites like clouds and yolks the color of the dawn sun; bacon and sausages crisped to perfection; and golden toast that gave off an intoxicating aroma.
Amid that daily banquet, a thought crossed my mind: if the food inside the orphanage was so exquisite, what must the food in the outside world be like? Surely, it had to be extraordinary.
My reflections were abruptly interrupted by Mama's voice, who, with a solemn gesture, silenced the childish clamor and gathered us to bless the food before we began.
—Children, let's join hands and give thanks for this new day and this food —she pronounced with that melodious voice that had always felt comforting to me.
I felt my appetite wane as I watched Lulu across the table. Her face glowed with a mix of excitement and nervousness about her imminent departure.
After breakfast, we took our daily exam. The challenging questions paraded before us as they did every day, and I answered them with my usual ease, barely aware of what I was writing. My mind was elsewhere, thinking of farewells and uncertain futures.
And finally, the moment we all anticipated and dreaded arrived: Lulu's goodbye.
—I can't believe it's your last day, Lulu! I'm going to miss you so much! —Lucy exclaimed, her voice breaking as tears fogged her glasses, which she quickly wiped with the edge of her shirt.
—Me too! —Anna joined in, barely holding back the tears struggling to escape her eyes.
—Don't worry, I'll write to both of you —Lulu assured us with a brave smile—. When you get adopted, we'll meet up and go shopping together! We'll try new, delicious food.
I watched the scene with a forced smile, feeling a knot tightening in my throat that kept me from speaking.
—Or pretty dresses! —Anna added, suddenly animated—. Or books and artwork signed by our favorite artists!
—That's the spirit, girls! —Lucy's face lit up like a beacon in the darkness—. Let's have breakfast together one last time! I'm starving.
The three nodded with renewed enthusiasm as they finished setting the cutlery and helped the younger children sit properly in their chairs.
Meanwhile, my other siblings sobbed, sharing a box of tissues that soon ran out. There wasn't a single dry eye in the room; we all joined in that farewell ritual we had lived through so many times.
It was entirely normal for us children to cry when one of our siblings was adopted. The family we formed in the orphanage was all we knew, and each separation tore us apart inside.
—Lulu, please don't go! —several of the younger children pleaded, clinging desperately to her legs.
—Come now, children —Mama intervened, clearing her throat, her voice soft but firm as always—. I know we'll all miss Lulu terribly, but please, try to be happy for her. She's going to a new family that will love her, and I assure you they'll cherish her as much as we do. Now, everyone can hug her and say goodbye before she leaves.
The children obeyed, forming an orderly line to give Lulu their final hug. Lucy, Anna, and I went first, as befitted her closest friends.
«Farewells are always heartbreaking,» I thought as I approached her with a heavy heart.
—Good luck, Lulu —I murmured against her ear as I held her tightly in my arms—. Your new family is incredibly lucky to have you. They'll love you like I do, like all of us.
My smile dissolved into tears that rolled silently down my cheeks.
—I love you too, Cassie —she replied, her voice breaking—. Thank you for everything. One day, you'll have a family that will adore you and feel blessed to have found you.
As I let her go, I recalled with bitterness that most of the children were unaware of the harsh truths about our origins. For us, finding a family was a bright, cherished dream, even though farewells broke our hearts.
I shifted my gaze to Arceus, who stood motionless and distant, not having uttered a single word throughout the entire farewell ceremony.
—Are you okay, Arceus? —I asked, approaching him with concern.
—I'm fine —he lied clumsily, his face a pale mask that failed to hide his turmoil.
Lulu approached him with a nervous smile and gave him a brief hug.
«Something's not right,»I thought as I watched the scene with growing unease.
Arceus lowered his head and whispered something so faint I barely caught it:
—…I'm sorry.
Reinhardt and the other children exchanged confused glances. This wasn't how our farewells usually went.
Arceus, always the calmest and most rational among us, never acted like this. Why was he apologizing? What did he know that the rest of us didn't?
—Come, Lulu, it's time to go. Your new parents are waiting —Mama announced, casting a stern glance at Arceus that made me shudder.
Lulu nodded obediently, pulling away from Arceus as if that contact had drained all her strength. She looked at us one last time, waved goodbye, and walked out the door with Mama, which closed behind them with a click that sounded like a final sentence.