On this day, my parents and siblings brought Anna home, and from the very moment she stepped inside, it was clear how quickly they had embraced her. They hovered around her, smiling brightly, showering her with affection I had never seen directed at me. I stood silently in the background, wishing that—even once—they would look at me with the same joy. She was my adopted sister, and I knew I should be welcoming, but instead, something inside me tightened painfully. A wave of abandonment washed over me, deep and suffocating. It's okay, I kept telling myself. They're still my biological parents. My brothers. They still love me… right?
But if blood truly mattered, then why did it hurt so much to watch them adore someone else so easily? Was it jealousy? Maybe. But more than jealousy, it was the ache of being unseen. And I knew that if I voiced even a hint of what I felt, they would call me petty and accuse me of refusing to accept Anna. So I swallowed everything.
They brought home a strawberry cake—Anna's favorite. They know I am severely allergic, yet no one hesitated. My brothers also gave her a beautiful dress, the same one I had begged for months ago. They had told me it was tacky and that I was being greedy. But when Anna held it, they praised it as if it were the prettiest dress in the world. My heart cracked silently.
After Anna cut the cake, she brought a piece to me. I gently said I couldn't eat strawberries, but she tried to force it toward my mouth anyway. When I resisted, she smeared the cake onto her new dress on purpose, then burst into tears, accusing me of doing it out of jealousy. Everyone believed her without question. My elder brother slapped me, calling me dramatic and petty.
I slipped quietly to a corner of the living room, curling into myself while tears streamed down my face. They continued celebrating without even glancing my way.
A little later, Anna called me again, telling me to join the family. I didn't want to go, my emotions too raw, so I remained seated. Instantly, she began crying loudly, claiming I didn't like her and I hated her, which was why I refused to participate. My family turned to me sharply, scolding me harshly and ordering me to join them. Anna smirked when no one was looking, as if this was exactly what she wanted.
Then she extended her hand toward me. When I finally reached out to take it and stand up, she intentionally fell to the ground and cried that I had pushed her. My family rushed to her, lifting her up, and immediately accused me again. They grounded me for three days, locked me in my room, and even stopped me from going to school.
The three days passed slowly. Not once did anyone check on me. Not one knock. Not one word. It was as if I had disappeared completely.
They had abandoned me. And for the first time, I truly felt what it meant to be alone.