The year I turned sixteen, my stepmother found an excuse to lock me out of the house. My father, just home from a business dinner, went along with it. Stubbornly, I held my ground. As the standoff stretched, a woman’s voice cut through the tension, clear and firm. “If you don’t want her, I’ll take her.” My father and stepmother exchanged a look, then silently shut the door. When that woman appeared, I thought I was falling into a new abyss. In truth, she was my salvation. 1 “Aria, you’re the older sister. Leo is your little brother. What’s the big deal about letting him have his way? When you get married, you’ll need your brother to have your back. If you’re hitting him now, what will you be like later?” My stepmother, Susan, blocked the doorway, her voice a relentless drill in my ear. “And don’t you dare argue with me. From this moment on, you can go wherever you want. We can’t afford to keep a princess like you. Go find a bridge to sleep under! You’re just like that tramp of a mother you have. No wonder she didn’t want you after the divorce.” I refused to show weakness, my lips pressed into a thin line to hold back the tears, my nails digging so deep into my palms they nearly drew blood. The heavy backpack couldn't bend my spine; I stood ramrod straight. We were locked in a stalemate. My father would be home soon, but he always sided with Susan. My biological parents had each started new families, and neither wanted me. My father and stepmother had only reluctantly taken me in because they figured they could marry me off for a hefty sum to support my brother someday. But recently, one of my father’s construction projects had hit it big. I was no longer a necessary asset. A few minutes later, the elevator dinged. My father, Mark, appeared, pot-bellied and staggering. He was flushed and reeked of alcohol from whatever dinner he’d just left. Susan immediately launched her attack. "Mark, you're just in time! This little brat was bullying Leo while I was washing some fruit. She pushed him to the ground! He has a huge bump on his head. She’s getting more rebellious by the day. You need to throw her out!" I knew Susan had been looking for a reason to get rid of me, constantly trying to drive a wedge between my father and me. Besides, my father had never wanted a daughter in the first place. On cue, Leo peeked out from behind Susan, his eyes red and his cheeks still wet with tears. He didn't say a word, just looked at our father with a pitiful expression. That was all it took. My father exploded. "Aria, you worthless girl! You dare push my son?" Without another word, he swung his hand and slapped me across the face. He didn't hold back. The impact sent a burning shock through my cheek, and my head spun. His voice boomed, full of righteous fury. "I don't want you anymore! Get out! Go wherever the hell you want!" "Dad, I didn't—" I clutched my stinging face, desperate to explain. "Didn't what? I saw it with my own eyes!" Susan cut me off, giving me no chance. My father’s face was beet red. "Don't say another word! You can go tell whoever you want, see if I care. If the neighbors ask, we'll just say you ran off with some boy. Now go! Get out!" He started shoving me, and I stumbled backward. In that instant, a wave of humiliation and helplessness washed over me. Tears welled up, blurring my vision. I hated them. I hated that I wasn't grown up yet, that I couldn't choose the family I was born into. Our shouting must have been loud because the door to the apartment next to ours opened. A young, elegant woman with a kind face peeked her head out. "If you don't want her," she said, her voice calm but resonant, "then I'll take her." 2 She was smiling, her tone light as if she were joking, but her eyes were serious. The shouting in the hallway had clearly caught her attention. My father and stepmother glanced at each other, then at her. Without another word, they turned, went back inside, and shut the door. The heavy slam of the door jolted me back to reality, and the tears I’d been holding back finally broke free. The woman from next door walked over, wrapped an arm around my shoulders, and gently guided me into her home. It wasn't my first time in her apartment. The week before, school had let out early on a weekend, and I’d forgotten my key. I called Susan, who was in the middle of a Mahjong game. I could hear someone yelling "I won!" in the background before she snapped at me, "What's the rush? Just wait by the door," and hung up. So I sat on the staircase, miserable with period cramps, my head feeling fuzzy. That’s when my neighbor found me and insisted I come inside to rest. She wouldn't take no for an answer, pulling me into her apartment. Her home was immaculate and smelled wonderful. I was too scared to sit down. She must have sensed my anxiety because she smiled and gently pressed me down onto the sofa. I remember it was incredibly soft. She made me a warm drink with brown sugar and gave me a hot water bottle for my stomach. Who would have thought the second time I'd enter her home would be at the lowest moment of my life? I didn’t know if my father and Susan were serious. But they hadn’t stopped her. My neighbor looked at the red handprint on my cheek and handed me an ice pack. "Here," she said softly. "Put this on your face." I took it numbly and pressed it to my cheek, my eyes fixed on the floor. I'd only been sitting for a few minutes, my mind still reeling, when there was a knock at the door. She went to answer it. It was Susan, a sickeningly sweet smile plastered on her face. In her hand was a dusty cloth bag containing my few clothes and books. "These are Aria's things," she said. "If you decide you don't want her either, you can just kick her out. No need to tell us." My neighbor glanced at the bag. Her back was to me, so I couldn't see her expression. But it seemed like she smiled. Then, her voice gentle but firm, she held out her hand to my stepmother. "Good. Give them to me." I stood up, my face pale, my body trembling uncontrollably. I had really been thrown out. My entire life's possessions fit into a single bag Susan could carry with one hand. It was pathetic. And my own father hadn’t even bothered to show his face. My neighbor closed the door and set the bag down by the sofa. "My name is Rebecca," she said. "Why don't you stay here for now? I know you're hurting. We can talk when you feel a bit calmer, okay?" Her eyes were clear and kind. I wiped away my tears and slowly nodded. Rebecca smiled at me and then went to prepare a room. If not here, I was already wondering which underpass I could call home. She returned with a long dress. "I've never worn this one. You can use it for now. We'll go buy you some new clothes tomorrow." I took it numbly, looking up at her. There was something about her that was incredibly calming. "Go take a shower," she said, leading me to the bathroom. "It's so hot out." She handed me a new towel and toothbrush. The feeling of being a stranger in someone else’s home, a burden, was overwhelming. I felt completely lost. But under her gentle guidance, I settled in. 3 Everything in the room was new, a stark reminder that I was homeless. Rebecca had taken me in, giving me a place to stay. Both our apartments were two-bedroom layouts. At my father’s house, I slept on the narrow, cramped balcony, which was also where they hung the laundry. Compared to that, this warm, clean, comfortable room felt like a dream. Lying on the bed, the sense of unreality began to fade. My tattered cloth bag sat quietly by the door. I didn't unpack. I didn't know how long I would be staying. Rebecca knocked and came in with a glass of warm milk. "Drink this before you sleep." I quickly sat up and took it, sipping it slowly under her gentle gaze. "We've met before, remember?" she asked, her voice calm and soft. I nodded. "Don't be afraid," she said. "I'm not trying to hurt you. I'm helping you because... when I saw what was happening, it was like seeing myself, a long time ago." Her words were so candid, so kind. I was stunned, my head snapping up to look at her. She just smiled, not continuing the topic. "Alright, get some rest for tonight. We can talk about everything else later." She patted my shoulder and closed the door behind her. I placed the empty glass on the nightstand, speechless for a long time. The future was a terrifying unknown, but that night, for the first time in a long time, I slept soundly. 4 The next morning, Rebecca had already bought breakfast. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I got a little of everything," she said with a smile. "Brush your teeth and come eat." After washing up, I walked over timidly. She sensed my unease and gently pulled me into a chair. The table was laden with food I'd only ever seen in restaurants: savory beef congee, fried dough sticks, steamed buns, eggs, milk, sweet pastries. I took a spoonful of the congee. It was hot, so hot it brought tears to my eyes. Rebecca noticed and gently stroked my hair. After breakfast, she drove me to a shopping mall. I'd been to malls before, but only to carry bags for Leo. We used to live in the countryside. For the first few years after Susan married my dad, before she had Leo, she was decent to me. She’d make me warm egg custard and buy me candy when I fell. Everything changed after she gave birth to a son. For him, my father found a new drive. He moved us to the city, worked his way up to a small-time construction contractor, and started making real money. Once he no longer needed to marry me off for cash, the facade dropped. I became Leo’s nanny. I did his laundry, cooked his meals, helped with his homework, and served as his punching bag. He loved to pull my hair, so I eventually cut it short. He’d rip up my homework, so I learned to do it only when he wasn't around. Then one night, he snuck onto the balcony while I was sleeping and started pulling at my clothes. I woke up with a start to a dark shape moving over me and screamed. My father and Susan came running, Susan cursing. I tearfully explained what happened. Susan just rolled her eyes. "There's nothing to see anyway. What's the big deal if your little brother takes a look? He's just a kid, what could he possibly do? You're making a fuss over nothing!" Leo, hiding behind her, nodded eagerly, a triumphant smirk on his face. He wasn't just a kid. He knew exactly what he was doing. The memory was a dark vortex, pulling me down. "What's wrong? We're here. Come on." Rebecca's voice broke through the haze. I shook my head, pushing the thoughts away. She bought me clothes and shoes. I was so self-conscious trying things on, but she kept complimenting me, acting like a real older sister. She noticed my old brick of a phone and, after a moment's thought, bought me a new smartphone. I looked at her, horrified by the expense. "I trust you'll use it for good things," she said, reassuring me. "Besides, we need a way to stay in touch." On our way home, our arms full of shopping bags, we ran into my father, Susan, and Leo heading out. Leo had been begging to go to the amusement park all week. We met them at the first-floor elevator. The smiles on their faces from talking to Leo froze when they saw us and our mountain of bags. Rebecca gave them a polite smile, then turned to me. "Let's go home." As the elevator doors closed, I could see them staring after us. I didn't know if they were looking at me or at the things in my hands. See? I really was disposable. I'd known for a long time that you can't force family to love you, but it still hurt. I had parents, but neither of them wanted me. "Sometimes, being disconnected from family is a blessing in disguise," Rebecca said softly. She shifted all the bags to one hand and put the other on my shoulder, her voice incredibly soothing. I looked up at her, and her warm smile gave me strength. I nodded. At the time, I didn't fully understand what she meant, but I never forgot her words. 5 We also went to the supermarket and bought a lot of groceries. "Big sister is going to show off her skills," Rebecca announced with a grin before disappearing into the kitchen. I tried to help, but she pushed me out and closed the door. Her "skills" turned out to be one single, very questionable dish. "So? My cooking is pretty good, right?" she asked, her face full of expectation. "It's delicious!" I said, forcing a smile. I couldn't bear to disappoint her. And I certainly couldn't tell her that I was a much better cook than she was. It was the first time in years I wasn't eating leftovers. I was overwhelmed. It felt like I had stepped into a completely different life. Rebecca worked a lot and often wasn't home. High school was the turning point, my only path to the life I dreamed of, and I couldn't afford to slack off. My freshman year had been at a school in our old town; they’d only brought me to the city to take care of Leo. The quality of education was worlds apart. I was a top student back there, but here, I had to fight just to stay off the bottom. I had no time for sorrow. I memorized vocabulary and texts on my way to and from school. I filled notebook after notebook with corrected mistakes. I broke down complex problems into manageable pieces until I understood them completely. I was like a sponge, endlessly absorbing knowledge, driven by a relentless hunger to learn more. Rebecca and I rarely saw each other. She gave me a spare key. "This is your home now," she told me. "I'll support you through school. If you feel bad about it, just think of it as a loan." I looked up at her, at her gentle smile. And I started to study with a ferocious intensity. I gave up everything else, pouring all my energy into building a future. In less than three months, the thick calluses on my hands from years of chores began to soften. My sensitive, insecure personality slowly started to change, becoming calmer, more like hers. The damp misery of rainy days, the scorching heat of summer, the lack of a proper desk to work at—all the suffocating anxieties of my past life began to fade away. I rarely thought about my father’s family anymore. It was as if I was truly detaching from that oppressive existence. Only occasionally, seeing the trash bags left outside their door would remind me of the home that was no longer mine. We didn't cross paths often. When my school started holding evening classes, I got home even later. Sometimes, if Rebecca was done with work, she would come to pick me up. We would walk home together. She’d ask about my studies, and I’d tell her about my progress. She would praise me, always encouraging me. I would watch her silently, seeing the exhaustion that no amount of makeup could hide. 6 The first time I realized something was wrong with me was on a Saturday afternoon in my junior year. Rebecca got off work early to pick me up. Cars weren't allowed near the school gate, so she walked over. She was so beautiful and sophisticated. Everyone was staring at her—men and women alike. For a split second, I was overcome by a possessiveness so sharp it almost choked me. I ran towards her, and she waved. I grabbed her hand and started pulling her towards the car. She was wearing heels and couldn't keep up. "Slow down, Aria!" she called out. I didn't listen. I pulled her faster, trying to leave all those prying eyes behind. "What's wrong? There are people everywhere. Let's walk slower." "No!" I snapped. My tone was so harsh, so unlike me, that it startled her. She went quiet and let me drag her all the way to the car. But once we were inside, my bravado vanished. I lowered my head, suddenly feeling small and guilty. Rebecca just laughed, not angry at all. "You finally get a day off tomorrow. Want to go out somewhere? I'll take you." I shook my head. "Alright, you can think about it. How about we go get something to eat now?" I looked up, my eyes shining with renewed happiness. "Okay!" In the supermarket, she pushed the cart while I clung to her arm, holding on tightly. The spot where our arms touched became the sole focus of my attention. It’s normal for two girls to walk like this. But for me… it wasn't normal. It felt like something inside me had suddenly clicked into place. Something was budding—shy, hidden, and dark, yet desperately craving the light. When I realized what that feeling was, I yanked my hand away as if I’d been burned. Rebecca was completely baffled. "What is it?" "Oh, nothing, nothing," I stammered. "I just... I want some yogurt." "Okay," she said. "Go get it then." "Right." I practically fled. That was the first time I understood my own heart. Something had taken root and was growing into a strange, new emotion.
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