HOPE
"Can I give you a hug, Dad?"
My father nods, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he spreads his arms wide.
His movements are slower than I remember—like age and silence have settled into his bones. I step forward, wrapping my arms around him, and for a moment, everything feels still.
And safe.
Like no time has passed at all.
Then he whispers, rough against my ear, "Is there anything going on with you? Did someone reject you? You look so sad recently."
That's because I'm sad. It's not exactly a joyous event to overhear your parents arguing about having stolen you from your birth mother.
"Who would want to date an ugly nerd? Besides, I'm not that much interested in men."
"Ugly? That's the last word for you. You're the cutest child anyone could ask for. You must have had a nightmare."
Right. All of this is a terrible nightmare and I'm going to wake up tomorrow and be back at my school again.
