> I was born with a name, but not a choice.
Not in who would raise me.
Not in who would leave me.
Not in how I'd survive between both.
Most people remember their fathers from their first memory — me? I first heard mine existed when I was eleven. His name didn't come with warmth. It came with a quiet conversation I wasn't supposed to hear, behind a curtain that didn't quite reach the floor.
"He's not her real father, you know," someone whispered.
And just like that, the only man I'd ever known as dad — the one who held me when I was sick, braided my hair with clumsy fingers, the one who struggled to find school fees — became someone else.
Not my blood.
Just… my love.
And yet, he stayed.
Even when I learned the truth.
Even when my biological father sent messages like a ghost trying to claim a body he once ignored.
Now I'm nineteen, and suddenly that ghost is alive again.
He says he wants me back.
Back?
From what?
From who?
Does he think you can simply call someone your daughter because you share a name on a birth certificate?
If only life were that simple.
---
That was before I lost my brother.
The only one who didn't need to be told how I felt.
The only one who could look at me and say,
> "You don't have to carry the whole house on your back today. I'll help."
But he's gone.
And the silence he left behind is loud.
---
Now I live in a space where men offer me the world but whisper conditions I was never born to fulfill.
One wants me to move abroad — but only if I become the kind of woman who smiles at his touch.
Another sends money with hearts and suggestions in every message.
A third, overseas, says he'll marry me if I just… agree.
And then there's me.
Just… me.
Still at home.
Still dreaming of escape.
Still wondering if I'll ever get to choose anything for once.
---
But the roads are all twisted now.
Some paved with promises I don't believe.
Some dark with loneliness I already know too well.
And the one road that had hope — the Au Pair dream —
Even that is fading.
> Maybe this is my story.
Not the girl who flew.
Not the one who got away.
Just the girl who stood at the crossroads and… never moved.
---