ASTRIDI couldn’t sleep. The clock on the bedside table glowed 1:07 AM, its soft blue light mocking me in the darkness. I tossed and turned under the sheets, my mind refusing to quiet. Every time I closed my eyes, the memories rushed back like a cruel tide—my frantic dash from store to store, the confused faces of strangers, the growing horror in my stomach as my voice echoed desperately: “Do you know them? My parents? Have you seen them?” And then there was the Patriarch’s calm declaration that he would explain everything to me. He wanted me to wait until I was “ready.” But how could I wait? The uncertainty was eating me alive. Who was I? Why did these people claim me as blood when my heart ached for my real family that was gone? The questions burned hot in my chest and the restlessness finally won. I slipped out of bed, slipped on the baggy dress I wore back from the hospital and left the room. The floor was cool beneath my bare feet as I padded quietly down the long hallwa
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