The Breaking Point
Lila woke up in the early morning, before the greyish light of Alaska had fully filtered through the window. "Waking up" wasn't quite the right word; it was more like a thought from the night before surfacing. Her phone vibrated on the nightstand, but she didn't look at the screen. She seemed to know the source of the vibration; it wasn't a message, a call, or just an alarm she'd accidentally pressed, but a sentence that would disrupt the order of her life.
She sat on the edge of bed. Her left leg still didn't fully comply despite the cold air. Since 2024, her body had reminded her of this on some mornings. She got up and walked to the window. The snow had stopped since the night before, but the ice piled up by the roadside was there, like a frozen memory of the past two years.
The phone vibrated again.
— Just answer the phone, Lila.
The voice was her own. Harsh but tired.
She opened the screen. An unknown number. She normally wouldn't answer. That morning she did.
— Hello? — Lila… it's Karen.
The name didn't ring a bell. But the voice touched something. Lila's face tensed.
— It must be the wrong number. — No. It's not. There's no easy way to tell you this, but… I'm your sister.
The silence was heavier than the Alaskan winter. Lila's hand trembled. She pulled the phone away from her ear and looked at the screen; still the same number.
— What are you saying? — I… I've been investigating this possibility for eight years. It took me a long time to reach you. But now I'm sure.
Lila laughed. A short, defensive laugh.
— I don't have a sister. My mother and father…
She couldn't finish the sentence. Something inside her, a drawer that had been closed for years, had been opened.
— They didn't tell you, Karen said. — They had to give me away.
Lila hung up the phone.
An hour later, she was sitting in the kitchen with a cold cup of coffee. Her laptop was open on the table. E-commerce panels, order lists, shipping labels… They were all there, but Lila's mind was elsewhere. She deleted the words she'd typed into the search engine, then re-typed them.
Adopted children Alaska 1996.
Nothing was clear. But the feeling of emptiness was growing.
The doorbell rang. It could be the only person who came at this hour.
—I'm getting it, Billy.
When she opened the door, Billy was as neat, cold, and alert as ever. He wasn't in uniform, but it was clear he was a police officer.
—Your voice didn't sound good. —I'm not well.
Billy entered, surveying his surroundings.
—What happened?
Lila handed him the phone.
—Someone called. They introduced themselves as my sister.
Billy's eyebrows furrowed slightly.
—It could be a scam. —I know. But…
There was a but. Billy heard it.
—I'll check. —Not official. For now.
Billy nodded. This was his gesture, meaning "I understand, but I don't approve."
—Okay. But don't get involved in silly things alone.
Lila smiled.
—How long have you known me?
Billy didn't answer.
That afternoon, he called Anna. Anna was always cold, but her intelligence helped Lila sort through her complex thoughts.
—I'm going to ask you something silly, Lila said. —Silly questions are more honest. —Could I have a sibling?
Anna paused for a moment.
—It's possible. Is there any reason why not? —My parents. —People lie for their children. Even more for themselves.
That sentence struck Lila deeply.
That night, as Lila lay on the couch, the accident returned.
*2024*
The road was wet. The headlights cut through the darkness. Her foot was trapped under the steering wheel. The brakes… hadn't worked.
—No, no, no…
The sound of a crash. The shattering of glass. The scream of metal.
Then silence.
Hospital lights. Someone saying, "You're lucky." Another whispering, "She can walk, but she might not be the same."
And her mother's face. She wasn't crying. She was guilty.
Lila didn't get in her car that night. But her mind had already traveled across continents.
She had a sister!
And everyone knew it!!
Everyone except Lila!!!
The same day – Afternoon
Lila's coat zipper caught as she put it on. It was a small detail, but it tested her patience. She pulled her hand away, tried again. She looked at her face in the mirror; she was thirty, but there was an older weariness under her eyes. She put her phone in her pocket, took out her keys. She wanted to walk. She didn't want to get in the car. She didn't want to give anyone an excuse that day.
The street was silent. This hour in Alaska seemed specially designed for people to think. She counted her steps. Her left leg sometimes lagged behind. She had to accept this after the accident; Her whole body was no longer her commanding officer.
The phone rang.
—I won't answer, she said to herself.
But she did.
—Where are you? Anna asked. —I'm walking. —That's not an answer. —I don't want to answer.
Anna's voice hardened.
—Come home. We need to talk. —I don't want to talk. —Lila, said Anna, —just because you don't want to right now doesn't mean you shouldn't talk.
That sentence stopped Lila. She remained standing on her stomach.
—How do you know? —People want to run away when they learn something big. You always ran away.
Lila took a deep breath.
—I'm coming.
Anna's House
Anna's house was tidy, but not warm. Books lined the shelves, and unfinished notes lay on the table. Anna wrote; it was her way of keeping the chaos under control.
—Sit down, Anna said.
Lila didn't sit.
—Tell me plainly. Is this true? —Most likely yes. —Most likely? —I won't say for sure without research.
Anna opened her computer. Several documents, several dates.
—There's a baby record from 1996, in Anchorage, given shortly after birth. The mother's and father's names have been erased. But the date…it coincides with the days the mother was in the hospital.
Lila's throat went dry.
—They lied to me. —Yes. —Why?
Anna looked up.
—That's what you should have asked. But you won't like the answer.
Silence.
—Tell me. —At that time, your mother had a serious illness. The doctors said she couldn't care for two babies at the same time. Your father agreed. Then… they were scared.
—Of losing me? —Of themselves.
Lila closed her eyes. There was no anger in her. There was something worse: understanding.
Flashback – 2024 Accident (Deepening)
It wasn't rain, it was sleet. The road sign had appeared at the last moment. Her phone had rung. She hadn't answered. A moment's hesitation.
The steering wheel pulled to the right. The wheel skidded.
—No!
The impact hadn't hurt at first. Then everything came at once: the sound, the pressure, the inability to breathe.
A man had broken the window.
—Don't move!
She couldn't move anyway.
Ambulance siren.
—What's your name? —Lila. —How old are you? —Twenty-eight.
She had lied. She didn't know why.
Her father had come to the hospital. Her mother later.
—You're lucky, the doctor had said.
Her mother had turned her head away. That day, Lila thought it was shame. Now it had another name: concealment.
Night – Confronting the Family
Lila stood in front of her parents' house. She didn't knock. She had a key. She always had one.
She went inside.
— Lila?
Her mother's voice trembled.
— I have another daughter, Lila said. — Don't you?
Her father sat down in a chair.
— How did you find out? — So it's true.
Her mother began to cry.
— We wanted to protect you. — Yourselves.
That sentence was heavy. But it was true.
— Why did you give her away?
Her mother spoke.
— We were afraid. Of losing you. Of losing ourselves.
— And when did you lose me, Lila said, — when you hid the truth?
There was no answer.
Lila turned towards the door.
— I will find her.
Her father looked up.
— Some paths don't lead back.
Lila didn't stop.
—I can't go back anyway.
She closed the door. (Now what she's looking for isn't just a sister; she's also searching for her own past.)