The things we never had

Chapter 19

I didn't sleep at all last night. I just sat on the bed, staring at the stars. I had never seen them this clearly before. They were so bright, so alive, and I couldn't tear my eyes away from them. It was like if I looked away, they'd disappear, and I'd never see them again. So, I didn't move. I didn't shut my eyes. I just stayed there, watching the night sky until the sun started creeping up, painting everything in soft shades of pink and gold. By then, my eyes ached from exhaustion, but still, I felt frozen in place.

I couldn't shake this feeling. I needed just five minutes alone to deal with my thoughts, to figure out my next move. My mind was a mess, tangled with doubts and questions I couldn't answer. What was my future supposed to look like now? Staying with my biological family meant having the world at my fingertips. That thought felt so overwhelming. In some ways, it felt right, like I was supposed to be here, living this life that had been taken from me. But at the same time, it felt so wrong. Really wrong.

It wasn't just guilt, though that was part of it. It was this deep, nagging feeling that I didn't deserve any of this. I hadn't done anything special to earn it. Millions of children out there needed a life like this far more than I did, kids who actually deserved it. What had I done? I got lucky, for once, and now I was stuck wondering how to make sense of it all.

When we boarded the plane to come here, I promised myself a fresh start. I swore I'd have a positive mindset, that I'd make the best of this opportunity. But how could I, when everything felt like it was spiraling out of control? Like no matter what I did, things were bound to go downhill, and there was no end in sight. How much more did I have to endure? How long would the pain and confusion last before I could finally feel like I wasn't just waiting for the next blow?

And then, in the middle of all this, another voice inside me screamed to stop complaining. I did get a fresh start. I should be embracing it, taking full advantage of this second chance. But instead, here I was, feeling sorry for myself like some spoiled brat. It was exhausting, this constant push and pull between feeling like I was owed something good for once and feeling like I hadn't earned any of it.

I sighed, rubbing my tired eyes. I wasn't sure how to shake this feeling, or if I even could. But one thing was for sure—I couldn't keep living like this, caught between two worlds, torn between who I was and who I was supposed to be now.

I bit my cheek, feeling the frustration bubbling up inside me. I hated how I always felt so out of place, like I needed permission just to breathe. The awkwardness, the tiptoeing around questions, and most of all—the lies. When would the lying stop? All of us, me and Atlas, lying about what we went through in England. And everybody else? They hid behind these masks, these perfect, fake personalities they showed to the outside world. But beneath it all, I knew there were real thoughts, real scars, wounds that never truly healed. Yet we all just pretended everything was stitched together perfectly.

I picked up my phone and hovered my finger over Max's contact. Guilt washed over me. We hadn't spoken in a while, and I felt bad about that. But I pressed the call button anyway. He was my best friend. With him, there were no lies, no pretending. It felt safe. As the phone rang, my heart pounded, and then his familiar voice answered, instantly rambling, probably with a million questions. But I couldn't focus on his words. All I could feel were the tears welling up in my eyes and how thankful I was to hear something normal.

"Hi," I managed to say, my voice coming out hoarse and cracked.

"Nicole?" Max's voice was filled with concern, immediately noticing. "Are you crying?"

I tried to respond, my voice soft and trembling. "I just...missed you."

"I miss you too," he whispered, his voice so gentle it almost broke me. There was a silence, but not the awkward kind. He let me cry, even though I tried so hard to hide it. He always knew. No matter how deeply I buried my tears, Max would know they were there.