Chapter one

The first time Emily understood what it meant to be unwanted, she was five years old.

It was Adoption Day.

The orphanage had never looked so beautiful.

Bright balloons floated across the courtyard. Colorful ribbons danced in the spring breeze, and tiny paper butterflies hung from every tree. Someone had even baked cupcakes, filling the air with the sweet smell of vanilla.

Mrs. Martha had spent the entire week telling the children to behave.

“Smile.”

“Be polite.”

“Don’t fight.”

“Maybe today will be your lucky day.”

Every child believed her.

Emily believed her too.

She wore the prettiest dress the orphanage owned—a pale yellow dress with tiny white flowers stitched around the collar. It was two sizes too big, but she didn’t mind.

She thought…

Maybe a mother would hold her hand today.

Maybe a father would lift her into his arms.

Maybe she’d finally have a family.

One by one, children disappeared through the gates.

Some laughed.

Some cried.

Some waved goodbye with tear-filled eyes.

Emily stood quietly beneath the old oak tree, clutching the little stuffed rabbit Mrs. Martha had sewn for her birthday.

She waited.

Every time the gate opened, her eyes lit up.

“Maybe this time…”

A smiling couple walked in.

They chose another child.

“Maybe the next one…”

Another family arrived.

Another child left.

The sun slowly disappeared behind the clouds.

The laughter became quieter.

The courtyard grew emptier.

Until…

Only one little girl remained beneath the oak tree.

Emily.

Mrs. Martha approached with slow steps.

She crouched in front of her.

“They’ll come another day.”

Emily looked toward the empty gate.

“Really?”

Mrs. Martha smiled.

“Really.”

Emily smiled back.

Children were good at believing impossible things.

⸻

Ten years later…

Nothing had changed.

Except Emily had stopped waiting by the gate.

The alarm on the bedside table exploded into life.

Emily groaned and buried her face beneath her pillow.

“No…”

Five more minutes.

The alarm rang louder.

She reached out blindly.

Instead of pressing the button…

She slapped the alarm clock straight onto the floor.

Crash!

“Emily!” Lily shouted from the bunk below. “One day you’re going to declare war on that poor clock!”

Emily peeked over the edge of the bed.

“It started it.”

Lily rolled her eyes.

“You seriously need help.”

“I know.”

“…But therapy is expensive.”

Lily threw a pillow.

Emily caught it with a grin.

The room erupted into laughter.

For a few precious minutes…

The orphanage didn’t feel lonely.

It felt like home.

Or at least…

The closest thing she’d ever known.

⸻

“Emily Hart!”

Mrs. Martha’s voice echoed through the hallway.

Emily froze.

Lily whispered dramatically,

“She’s using your full name.”

“…You’re dead.”

Emily sighed.

“I’ll miss you.”

She walked downstairs with the confidence of someone marching toward her execution.

Mrs. Martha folded her arms.

“What did you do this time?”

Emily blinked innocently.

“You’re asking me?”

“Yes.”

“…Can you be more specific?”

Mrs. Martha stared at her.

Emily scratched the back of her neck.

“Because I may have done… several things.”

“You climbed over the orphanage wall again.”

“I used the gate on the way back.”

“You stole cookies.”

“I prefer the term borrowed.”

“You convinced three children broccoli causes nightmares.”

Emily looked offended.

“I never convinced them.”

“…They reached that conclusion themselves.”

Mrs. Martha pinched the bridge of her nose.

“Lord, give me strength.”

Emily slipped behind her and gently wrapped her arms around the older woman.

“You love me.”

“I do.”

“…Which makes absolutely no sense.”

For just a second…

Mrs. Martha’s eyes softened.

She had watched Emily grow from a tiny, frightened child into a bright, stubborn young girl who always smiled…

Even when her heart was breaking.

Because Emily had learned something very young.

If she laughed first…

No one would notice she was hurting.

⸻

That evening…

Emily returned from school with aching feet.

Her part-time job at the café had ended late again.

She pushed open the orphanage door.

Something felt…

Wrong.

The hallway was unusually quiet.

Mrs. Martha stood outside the office.

Her hands were trembling.

She looked as though she’d seen a ghost.

Emily frowned.

“…Did someone finally discover I keep stealing cookies?”

Mrs. Martha didn’t smile.

Emily’s own smile slowly disappeared.

“What happened?”

The older woman took a shaky breath.

“Emily…”

“Yes?”

“…There’s someone here to see you.”

Emily blinked.

“Me?”

Mrs. Martha nodded.

“He says…”

She glanced toward the closed office door.

“…he’s been looking for you for fifteen years.”

Emily let out a small laugh.

“Then he’s definitely got the wrong person.”

Mrs. Martha didn’t answer.

Slowly…

She reached for the doorknob.

And turned it.