Chapter 4

"Your father and I are going out tomorrow, Anna," Mom said. "Remove the filter from the hood and wash it."

It was the next morning. I was already fully dressed when Mom stood at the entrance of my room and gave me her orders. She didn't notice.

"Okay," I said.

"Dry it on the balcony when you're done washing it. Don't put it in the washing machine. You broke one last time."

Annie was the one who broke the filter last time, not me. But correcting her would take energy, and I no longer had any desire to waste mine on her.

"Okay."

Mom frowned. "Why are you repeating yourself like a broken record today?"

I looked up at her. Our features were quite similar, especially our eyes. When I was younger, I had secretly stared at myself in the mirror countless times, comparing our faces. I wanted to find proof that I was adopted, but I never found any evidence, not even once, because it didn't actually exist.

Annie also left the house shortly after Mom and Dad. The entire house fell silent. I sat on the couch for ten minutes and looked around the living room.

Different-sized photos of Annie were placed on top of the TV cabinet. Her artistic photos hung on the wall. Four pairs of her limited-edition sneakers were arranged next to the shoe cabinet. The cashmere coat that she washed two days ago was drying on the balcony.

But where were the traces of my existence?

Perhaps the mop that I exclusively used that was stashed at the corner of the balcony could be considered to be one, along with the sticky note that had the message, "Don't forget to take your blood pressure medicine, Mom," that was stuck on the fridge.

All of those traces just showed that I had worked myself to the bone for the family. None of them showed that I had ever been loved.

I grabbed my backpack and luggage bag. I then walked to the door and changed my shoes. When I closed the door, I didn't look back with teary eyes as the door clicked shut like in the TV shows.

In fact, it was no different from every other time I'd left the house over the past 15 years.

…

There was an hour left till boarding when I arrived at the airport. I sat in a café next to the boarding gate after I checked in, dropped off my luggage bag, and went through security.

I hadn't received a single message since I left the house. No one asked me where I was. No one noticed that something was different between that day and the day before.

The boarding gate's PA system announced that it was time to board the plane. I pocketed my phone and grabbed my backpack. As I stepped onto the bridge, I turned back to glance at the plane door that was closing behind me.

Behind me lay the lie I'd lived for the past 15 years. Ahead stretched an icy wilderness where snow fell all year round.

Just then, my phone vibrated in my pocket. Annie had sent me a message.

"Can you send the photography course's money to me today, Anna?"

My thumbs hovered near the bottom of the screen as I stared at the words, before finally typing out a short, simple sentence.

"I won't be sending you the money."

I switched off my phone after I sent the message.

The runway lights beyond the window zoomed past as the plane began to move. I leaned against the window and closed my eyes.

Anna Moon, 23.

From that day forward, I would no longer be someone else's accessory or the punchline to someone else's joke.