Unveiled Secrets

Feeling lost and irritated, I glared at my aging parents as they spread photos of young women in their early twenties across my coffee table. Each smiling face stared back at me, full of life and potential, as if mocking my reluctance. For the second time today, I wondered why I had given them a spare key.

"She’s perfect," my mother insisted, pointing at a brunette in a blue sundress. "And this one? Her father owns three factories. She’ll be an asset."

I clenched my fists. "I don’t need anyone," I muttered, barely restraining my irritation. "Why can’t you understand that?"

Why couldn’t they see that I didn’t want to ruin another young woman who had so much potential? The thought of dragging someone else into my mess made my stomach churn. I had failed once. Why repeat the same mistakes?

"Because you need an heir," my father cut in sharply. "Your children from your first marriage don’t count. We need someone from our family."

The words hit me like a slap. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from snapping back. The thought of my children—my flesh and blood—being dismissed so casually boiled my blood. How could they talk about their own grandchildren this way?

They continued, oblivious to my silence. If they knew what was good for them, they wouldn’t push further. I wasn’t above cutting ties if it came to that. They’d end up like the Woodstones—my ex-in-laws—who alienated their children so thoroughly that they were left to fend for themselves in old age. I’d heard the Woodstones had to sell their business just to afford their care home bills.

I stood abruptly and retreated to the kitchen, needing space to breathe. I opened the fridge, grabbing the cold brew tea I had prepared the night before. As I moved, my hands trembled slightly.

I needed a distraction. My gaze landed on the wedding gift tea set, tucked away in the cupboard, gathering dust. Without thinking, I took it down and washed it carefully. The gold paint and delicate artwork shimmered under the water, a painful reminder of a life I’d once shared with someone who now felt like a stranger.

By the time I returned to the living room with the tea tray, I could hear my parents' hushed conversation.

"We should have given him up like the others," my father said, his tone cold and casual. "Look at Eddie. He’s got his wife, a successful career, everything. We should’ve adopted him instead of wasting time and money on a mistake."

I froze, my grip on the tray faltering. The tea cups rattled, and for a second, I thought I might drop everything. My vision blurred as the words sank in. Given me up? Like the others?

Thank God there was a table beside me. I set the tray down loudly, the sound snapping my parents’ heads toward me.

"So," I said, my voice tight with barely contained fury, "you just had me for your personal use?"

My mother stammered, her face pale, but my father’s expression remained indifferent.

"Don’t act surprised," he said, leaning back in his chair. "You’ve been nothing but a disappointment anyway. Couldn’t even keep a wife. And look at you now—cooking and cleaning like some housewife."

My stomach churned. I took a step back, fighting the urge to lash out, to scream, to say something—anything—that would make him feel even a fraction of the pain he’d just inflicted. But instead, I straightened my shoulders and pointed to the door.

"Leave," I said quietly, my voice trembling with suppressed emotion.

"Now, look at this," my father sneered, rising to his feet. "Disrespectful, ungrateful—just like I said. A mistake and a disappointment."

My mother hesitated for a moment, looking at me with something that almost resembled regret. But she said nothing. She followed my father out the door like a lamb trailing its shepherd.

The door slammed behind them, the sound echoing in the now-empty house. For a moment, I stood there, frozen, staring at the door as if expecting them to come back and say it was all a cruel joke.

But they didn’t.

And then it hit me.

Everything I had worked so hard for—all my accomplishments, my identity—had been built on a foundation of lies. The weight of it crushed me, burning like hellfire against my skin.

Tears blurred my vision as I sank onto the couch. I wiped them away furiously, ashamed of my own weakness. After what felt like an eternity, I stood, grabbed my coat, and stepped outside, desperate for air.

I walked aimlessly, my thoughts swirling in a chaotic storm. Their words played on a loop in my mind. A mistake. A disappointment. Given me up like the others.

I didn’t notice how far I had gone until the dizziness hit. My head felt light, and the world around me blurred.

I stepped off the curb, not even realizing I was crossing the street until I heard the blare of a horn.

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me back just as a car sped past. The force of the pull made me stumble, and my head hit the ground with a dull thud.

Pain shot through me, and I struggled to stay conscious. A woman’s voice cut through the haze, sharp and panicked.

"Stay with me! Don’t close your eyes! Help is on the way!"

Her voice was the last thing I heard before everything went black.