Mio Sole

4 [Aurora]

**June 6th 9am**

   I take a quick shower once I get to my room, the hot water against my skin a stark contrast to the cold New York rain from last night. Afterwards I dry myself off with a fluffy towel from the bathroom, I change into a simple lavender gown that ends halfway down my thighs. It's tight around the bodice—showing off all of my generous curves—and has a loose skirt to combat the warm weather. The sleeves are simple spaghetti straps tied into bows on either shoulder, showing off my early-summer tan.

   I dry my hair off as quickly as I can before throwing it into a ponytail. While I followed David's directions and got dressed, I still don't have a good feeling about what the men downstairs want. However, I'm not petty enough to take hours getting ready just to inconvenience them. My shower and getting dressed combined only took me a little over 20 minutes, and I make my way back down the stairs after throwing on a leather jacket and my signature combat boots—looking almost identical to barbie shoes due to my small shoe size and the 6 inch heel they have.

I make my way down the stairs to find the men from earlier standing in the hallway, looking bored. Their eyes are intense when they notice my presence, and John and David come around the corner as I hit the landing.

John turns back towards the men. "Can we have a moment, please?"

The oldest looking man nods before closing the gap to the front door and making his way outside. The others, presumable his sons, follow closely behind him. The one that had followed me into the kitchen earlier lingers, shooting me a sheepish grin before following the others outside.

"I'm so sorry," John says as soon as the door closes behind them. His eyes shine suspiciously as he turns back to look at me, his hand finding his husband's shoulder.

David shifts away from his touch. John continues, undeterred, "You have to understand, Aurora, that we had no choice. That I had no choice."

"No choice in what?" I ask, trying to keep my voice neutral despite the building anxiety creeping it's way into me.

David shakes his head, his eyes still also shining with unshed tears. "That man out there claims that he is your father. He insisted John give him custody of you. There was nothing he could have done."

It's even more of a struggle to keep my expression blank as his words sink in. I should be angry, or scared, or hurt. I should be devastated that the men I'm supposed to view as my family just gave me up without a word to me. I should probably be crying and begging them to take me back.

But I'd done that too many times before. I've been in dozens of foster homes throughout my life, have tried everything I could to convince them to let me stay after they'd decided they were no longer interested in raising me.

Nothing ever works, and I'm sick and tired of killing myself trying to please everyone else.

Only a mild spark of disappointment lights in my chest, but I don't let even it show on my face. Instead, I grab my small leather crossbody purse and throw it over my coat before making my way out the door, ignoring the pleas from John and David. The five men stand just outside the door, still looking bored.

I make my way to the car in the driveway before jumping in the passenger seat next to the driver: a younger man, probably mid-twenties.

   These men may claim to be related to me, but does that not make me feel compelled to speak to them or sit with them behind the partition separating them from the driver. The driver says nothing as I buckle my seatbelt beside him, but he silently hands me the aux cord. I shoot him a relived look, plugging my phone in and scrolling through my music as the 5 men from before file into the back of the SUV.