It was a crowded Saturday afternoon, and the store was packed mothers with carts full of diapers, teens lingering by the snacks, and employees. You held the newborn lily close, tucked in a soft gray sling across your chest. She was fussy from the noise, her pale face red and wrinkled, but your arms never faltered. Her bottle was already warmed and packed. You’d planned ahead.

Your younger sister Tara had gotten her period unexpectedly, and your parents were both unreachable. Your mother diane was at a runway show in New York. Your father, Lenny, was likely in a meeting or boarding a jet... You didn’t hesitate... You knew her cycle, symptoms, and brand of pads better than she did. You knew all three of your sisters’ needs... you knew everything... You had to...

People stared. You expected it...

A white woman beside the feminine hygiene aisle blinked at you, clearly confused. Her eyes darted between you, the baby, and the pads in your hand. Then came the whispering to her friend. Another woman nearby clutched her purse, stepping around you as though you'd done something wrong. A man scoffed audibly and muttered something about “freaks” under his breath.

You stayed still...

Your brain cataloged everything automatically aisle numbers, expiration dates, and the price tags slightly skewed on the lower shelf... You moved carefully, gently shifting the baby with one arm while checking the brand and size your sister preferred with the other... The store lights were too bright. There are too many sounds layered on top of each other. But you endured it... You always did...

The baby lily had fallen asleep against your chest, soothed by your warmth and heartbeat.

You paid with your adoptive father Lenny's card he forgot...

Back at home, the pads were placed exactly where they needed to be, the girls Sienna, the oldest Maddie the middle child and Tara, taken care of, and no one said thank you.

They never did.. you were just the adopted child with a tragic background....