When the Forgotten Daughter Rises Chapter 08

When the Forgotten Daughter Rises Chapter 08

Every three days, Mom calls my academic advisor to ask how I’m doing.

The answer is always the same.

“Elena is doing fine. She attends her classes regularly, and her grades are excellent.”

Everything is fine. I attend my classes. My grades are good.

Those few sentences become the only updates Mom can get about me.

She tries writing me a letter and sending it to the university mailroom. It is three pages long, and apparently,

she writes the whole thing through tears.

But the letter is eventually returned to her.

The mailroom tells her that Elena Reeves refused delivery.

She even tries asking relatives to talk me into coming home.

Aunt Sarah calls my new number, and I answer.

“Ellie, your mom has lost more than twenty pounds. She cries every day. Please, just call her. She knows she

was wrong.”

I stay silent for a few seconds before saying,

“Aunt Sarah, the two thousand dollars you gave me at my graduation party? I never got it. Mom counted it as

Lily’s money.”

There is silence on the other end.

I continue, “I’m not doing this because of the money. I just want you to understand that this didn’t happen

overnight.”

Aunt Sarah sighs, “Then what are you going to do? Never go home again?”

“I don’t know.”

I’m telling the truth. I really don’t know.

I don’t hate them. I’m just tired.

I’m so tired that I don’t want to explain myself anymore. I don’t want to fight for their attention, and I don’t want to keep standing in that corner where the spotlight never reaches, waiting for the day someone finally

notices me.

December comes, and Christmas arrives.

The family group chat is already gone, but Mom still manages to send me a message through my advisor.

“Are you coming home for Christmas? I’ll make your favorite.”

My advisor passes the message on to me word for word.

I ask her, “Did she say what my favorite food is?”

My advisor hesitates, “No. She didn’t mention anything specific.”

Right. She doesn’t know what I like.

She knows Lily loves creamy bacon pasta, roast lamb, and brownies, but she doesn’t know what I like.

I stay silent for a moment before saying, “Please tell her I already have plans and won’t be coming home.”

“Okay.”

During Christmas break, I spend six days in the library. On the remaining day, I go downtown with my

roommate to visit a museum.

Her name is Claire, and she’s the daughter of a Beta from a local pack.

She knows about my situation, but she never asks questions. Whenever she goes out or gets invited to a

party, she simply includes me.

One time, she asks, “Ellie, you’re really not going home for Christmas?”

“No.”

“Then how about tacos tonight? My treat.”

“Sure.”

While we’re eating tacos, she suddenly looks at me.

“You know, I think you’re amazing.”

I look up, “Why?”

“Because you’re the kind of person who can handle everything on your own. But honestly, I also think that

kind of strength is a little heartbreaking.”

I pick up another taco without saying anything.

Claire smiles and squeezes some barbecue sauce onto it for me.

“But you have me now. So if you ever need anything, just tell me. You don’t have to handle everything by

yourself.”

I look at her and nod, “Okay.”

That night, after I get back to my dorm, I lie in bed and think about what she says for a long time.

Claire thinks I’m strong.

But I know this strength was never something I was born with.

It was something I was forced to learn.

Just like the label Mom gave me.

Easy.

I used to think being an “easy” child meant not making my family worry, not causing trouble, and never

asking for too much.

But now I finally understand.

A child who is considered “easy” doesn’t mean she doesn’t need to be cared for.

It means, somewhere along the way, her heart gets treated as something that can be spared, too.