Chapter 8
I decided to dump Adam because that man, who loved, supported, and prioritized me, was already gone.
Night fell.
Adam had prepared for Grace a fireworks show more breathtaking than that for me.
He invited me out of the house and said, “Amanda, we can be together after the wedding with Grace tomorrow.”
At the thought of his previous help and support, I opened my mouth.
“I’m sorry… I can’t…” Be with you anymore.
Before I finished my sentence, Terry called Adam away. “My dear brother–in–law, come, the crowd is waiting for you.”
Adam replied, “Coming.”
He then looked at me and said, “What did you say?”
I gave him a bitter smile and said, “Nothing. Have a good time.”
Adam held my cold hand.
“After tomorrow, this farce will be over.”
After that, he turned around and walked away from me.
I looked at his back.
Yes, the farce would be over with our ridiculous relationship included.
The fireworks lit up the sky.
The crowd gathered in the living room. I glanced at the time on my phone.
It was 7:15 PM, so there was only one hour and 45 minutes to go.
I first took a bath.
I looked at myself in the mirror. The scars on my body resulted from my terrible days in Ouray.
Then, I put on my best clothes and waited to be picked up.
There was one hour to go.
I looked around the room where I had lived for many years.
The utility room was not small, but there were very few things belonging to me.
My stuff included a few worn–out clothes, a couple of old shoes, a quilt that the servants didn’t want, a diary book that had lost its cover, and a photo frame.
I first threw away the clothes, shoes, and quilt.
Then, I walked up to the desk and picked up the photo frame, which had inside a photo of the Hacker family and the Powell family. The photo was taken ten years ago when I had just reunited with the Hacker family.
My parents, elder brother, Grace, and Adam were in the photo.
The photo had once been my most precious thing in this world.
I took the photo out of the frame, tore it into pieces, and threw it into the trash can.
In the end, I looked at the diary book that I had been writing since my return to the Hacker family at fifteen years old.
Lupened the book.
“December 3, 2012, Sunny; I found my real parents. My dad is handsome, my mom is beautiful, and my elder brother is good–looking. Grace held my hand, and hers was soft. I am so happy. I finally found my real family.”
I turned a page.
