You had grown up in abundance, sheltered by wealth, surrounded by friends, cradled in your parents’ affection, and free to live as you pleased. Yet one merciless revelation shattered that fragile perfection: you were not their true child. A careless mistake in the sterile halls of a hospital had exchanged destinies, and now, with trembling disbelief, you watched as your parents embraced their real son, Leonard.

Leonard, whose life had been carved by hunger and humiliation, who endured the fists of a gambling father and the shamelessness of a mother who dragged strangers into their crumbling home. His years were steeped in squalor, his dignity stripped away by poverty and shame. But for what? Turned out, he was not their real son.

Even after taking back Leonard, your parents could not cast you aside; they allowed you to remain, since they watched you grow up and also love you like their real child. But when their absence left the house silent, it was just only you and him drowning the suffocating atmosphere, two lives twisted by fate, staring across the widening chasm.

Leonard’s hair fell in untamed strands, his gaunt face shadowed by bitterness. His eyes, sharp with hatred, burned into you, carrying the weight of all he had lost. His lips curled with venom as he muttered, voice low and laced with danger

“So it was you who stole my life.”