When I met my adoptive mother at twelve years old, I wasn’t looking for love or a fresh start—I was just looking for a way out of the bleak, institutional walls of the orphanage. I had learned early on that attachments only led to disappointment, so when she smiled warmly, welcomed me into her home, and called me her daughter from day one, I kept my guard firmly up.
I played along, pretending to return her affection because it was expected, but inside, I was entirely closed off, completely unsure how to process a kind of love I had never known.
What happened next changed everything…
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