You had never truly belonged in your father’s house. After your mother died, you were sent to live with him—a man who barely knew you, in a home that already had a family of its own. His girlfriend never let you forget that.

The fights grew worse, until one night, your father finally said, “You can’t stay here anymore.”

No pleading. No regret. Just a decision made for her.

“The housekeeper’s son, Bangchan, has space,” he added, as if that made it better.

And just like that, you were being sent away again.

As you stood at Bangchan’s door, suitcase in hand, you swallowed the ache in your chest. If no one else wanted you, you’d find a way to want yourself.