Chapter 2: The Storage Room Choice

We could have been twins, but the way she carried herself made her seem older, more polished.

Like she belonged here, and I was just visiting.

She’s a lot more mature than me.

Not as naive or soft.

She had a confidence I could never fake, a way of looking at people that made you feel small.

Seeing me in her room, she pressed her lips together, forced a dimple, and put on a relaxed look. “I heard my sister came home, so I left school early and rushed back. You like this room? Then you can have it.”

Her voice was light, but her eyes were sharp, watching my every move.

After saying this, she bit her lip and turned her face away.

A practiced gesture, designed to make her look vulnerable.

I didn’t buy it, but my parents did.

My parents noticed every little change in her expression.

My mother’s hand flew to her chest, her eyes softening.

My father’s jaw tightened, as if bracing for drama.

My mother hurried in to pull me away. “Ellie, pick another room. This one’s too big, I don’t think it suits you.”

She tugged gently on my arm, her smile stretched thin.

The message was clear: don’t make this harder than it has to be.

“Why not?”

I was honestly confused.

I blinked at her, still clutching the bear. The room felt colder.

The fairy lights less magical.

And I could feel the air in the room shift.

It was like all the oxygen had been sucked out, replaced by something heavy and invisible.

But how was I supposed to know what was wrong at that time?

I was just a kid, desperate for family. I didn’t know the rules.

Didn’t know the lines I wasn’t supposed to cross.

They’d cried for me, said they loved me so much.

Their words echoed in my mind, mixing with the uncertainty in their eyes.

I wanted to believe them.

Savannah had offered up her own room for me to choose.

It seemed like such a generous gesture.

I didn’t realize there were strings attached.

I was their real daughter—so wasn’t it right to pick the room I liked?

I thought that’s how families worked.

I thought love meant you got to choose.

So I was full of questions.

My hands fidgeted with the bear’s ribbon, my mind racing.

I didn’t understand why it felt so wrong.

My mother’s expression changed again, wanting to say something but holding back.

She glanced at my father, searching for backup.

He just looked away.

My father grew more stern and fell silent.

He crossed his arms, lips pressed in a hard line.

The tension in the room was suffocating.

Savannah came over to help me make the bed. “Sis, just stay here. This is your home too—live wherever you want.”

Her words were honeyed, but her eyes flickered with something else.

I wondered if anyone else noticed.

I stayed.

I sat on the edge of the bed, the bear in my lap, trying to convince myself I belonged.

Back in the small town, I only knew about cooking and chores.

After coming to the city, I still only knew about cooking and chores.

I missed the smell of frying onions, the sound of the old screen door slamming shut.

Here, everything was too clean, too quiet.

But here, there was no kitchen for me, no garden to tend.

The house was spotless, every chore already done.

I wandered the halls, lost.

So, I didn’t understand what was wrong.

I felt useless, invisible.

Like a guest who’d overstayed her welcome.

I only lived in Savannah’s room for half a day before my brother Carter, after rushing home, dragged me out.

He burst through the door, his footsteps loud and angry.

I barely had time to look up before he grabbed my arm.