Growing up, I always knew I was adopted.
My parents never tried to hide it from me.
They told me that I was the chosen one, that they had waited many years for a child and loved me from the moment they first saw me.
I had a happy childhood. A warm, loving home.
But a few weeks before my 18th birthday, strange things started happening.
It started with emails.
The first one came from an address I didn’t recognise:
Happy birthday, Emma. I’ve been thinking about you. I’d love to talk to you.
No name. No explanation.
I ignored it.
Then came a Facebook friend request from a profile with no picture. Name: Sarah W.
It sat in my inbox unanswered.
And then, on the morning of my 18th birthday, there was a knock on the door.
When I opened it, I knew everything was about to change.
There she stood. A woman with tangled blonde curls and dark circles under her tired eyes.
She stared at me as if she’d seen a ghost. She gasped, as if she’d been holding her breath for years.
‘I’m your mother.’
‘Your real mother,’ she added, stepping closer.
‘I know it’s a shock,’ she said, her voice shaking. – ‘But please, Emma. Please listen to me.’
I should have closed the door.
I should have called my parents.
But I didn’t.
I couldn’t move.
Your foster parents lied to you,’ she said, wiping sweat from her forehead.
They lied to me, Emma. They stole you from me!’
She grabbed my hands, her grip trembling.
Tears welled up in her eyes as she pulled a folder out of her backpack and placed a stack of papers in my hands.
Birth records. My papers.
At the very bottom, a signature.
Her name.
‘I never wanted to give up on you, Emmy,’ she whispered. – That’s what I called you when you were still in my belly. I was young and scared. They convinced me that I wasn’t good enough. That you’d be better off without me. They manipulated me…and I regret it every day.’
‘Just give me a chance. Come with me. Let me show you the life you were meant to have.’
I should have said no.
I should have slammed the door shut.
ro
Right?
But I didn’t.
I told Sarah I’d meet her at the nearest diner.
That night, I stood in our living room.
Across from me sat my parents, smiling, still cheerful – completely unaware of the storm I was about to unleash.
‘A woman came to the house today,’ I said.
‘She said… that she was my birth mother.’
‘She told me that you lied. That you tricked her into giving me up.’
My mother inhaled sharply. The sound – raw, painful – made my stomach twist.
‘Emma,’ she said softly. – ‘That’s not true.’
I told her I was staying with her for a week.’
‘Emma, please, honey,’ Mum pleaded. – ‘Just listen to us. Don’t go.’
My dad, calm but firm, added:
‘Go on, Emma. But remember – she’s already left you once. Think well before you walk out the door.’
Sarah’s house wasn’t a home.
It was a mansion.
Big. Cold. Creepy. Who knew?
I kept my word – one week. Just to see.
The next day, a woman stopped me outside the mansion.
‘I’m Evelyn,’ she said. – ‘I live next door.’
‘She didn’t tell you, did she?’
‘That no one tricked her. That she gave you up willingly.’
‘Emma, she was always having fun. Burned every cent she had. When she got pregnant, she saw you as a burden. Her life was too ‘complicated’.’
‘She never once sought you out. Not once. Until now.’
‘Her father died last month,’ Evelyn added with a serious look.
‘And he left everything to you. You’re eighteen now. Legally, it’s all yours.’
It wasn’t about love.
It was about money.
When I got home, my parents were waiting for me at the door.
I didn’t say a word.
I just threw myself into my mum’s arms.
‘Welcome back, baby girl,’ Daddy said softly.
And in that moment, I realised
I already had everything I needed.
A real family.
