My eyes are swollen from crying. My chest hurts so much. I can't take it anymore. I feel like I'm trapped here. I was startled by the sound of a knock on the door.
"Mia, open the door." It was Dad. I quickly got up to open it. "Dad," I sighed, pouting with a sad face. We both walked toward the edge of the bed and sat down side by side.
"I heard what happened during your conversation with Marco. I do understand how you feel. But your brother is only trying to protect you." I let out a deep sigh. Dad wrapped his arm around me from the side.
"Dad, this is not the life I want. I don't understand you all because you never tell me anything. Please give me freedom." I buried my face in my hands and cried. I cried out loud—like I was finally letting out everything I've held in for years. My chest felt tight, like something heavy was pressing down on it. Dad just let me cry. I could feel him taking deep breaths, as if he wanted to cry too.
I looked up when I heard footsteps at the door. It was Mom. She quickly came over and hugged me.
"Oh, sweetie. Stop crying. We'll figure everything out, okay?" she said as she held me, kneeling in front of me so she could hug me properly.
"What do you want? Tell me," Mom said while holding both my shoulders to gently turn my face toward hers.
"Mom, you know what I want. I'm grateful to you and Dad for giving me this life. I truly am. But I won't be happy here," I said through tears.
I saw Mom and Dad exchange a look, as if they were talking through their eyes.
"Okay, we'll figure something out," Mom said. She kissed both of my cheeks.
"Your dad and I will leave you here for now. We'll give you space. Go out when you're ready," she said as she stood up from kneeling. She signaled Dad, as if telling him to come with her.
Dad kissed my forehead, stood up, and followed Mom outside.
My mom really knows me well. She always knows when I just want to be alone—and when I need someone with me.
I walked toward the window and slid it open, letting in the fresh air from the trees surrounding the house. The breeze carried the scent of leaves and earth—it was calming, grounding. It felt like the air itself was trying to soothe me. Somehow, after letting everything out, I felt a bit lighter.
There were so many questions running through my mind—questions I couldn't answer. I didn't even realize how long I had been standing there, staring blankly out the window. My eyes were puffy and swollen from crying. My feet had started to ache from standing too long, which made me finally decide to go back to bed.
I lay on my side, hugging my pillow like someone was lying next to me. But I couldn't sleep. I kept tossing and turning. Frustrated, I got up and stepped out of my room. It was quiet. Where were Mom and Dad? Where was Marco?
I saw the door next to my room. A white door, just like mine, with a gold doorknob. I pressed my ear against it, trying to sense if anyone was inside. It seemed empty. So I opened it.
Inside was a queen-size bed, just like mine, with a plain blue bedsheet—almost the same shade as Andreis' eyes. Maybe this is where Dad had him sleep. I didn't know what this room was before he came, but I was sure it used to be a guest room. There was a bathroom inside too, just like mine. A large cabinet stood on the left side, and a study table on the right. The bed faced a large window, and from it, you could see the apple trees as well. Just like mine. All you could see was green. It was a beautiful view.
I walked toward the study table. On it was his black bag. As I leaned closer, my hip hit the edge of the table. I hadn't noticed it—too anxious that someone might walk in and accuse me of snooping or stealing. Damn. The bag fell and its contents scattered.
I quickly knelt to pick everything up. Papers—probably work documents. Some IDs. Huh? What's this? A residency ID… with Angelo's name on it. Wait, why does he have Angelo's ID? Why is it with him? What did he do?
I froze. Just then, the bathroom door opened. I shot up to my feet, still holding Angelo's ID.
"What are you doing?" Andreis asked, clearly shocked. His eyes darted from my face to the ID in my hand—the
n back to my face.