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Chapter 1

On moving day, my parents made a grand show of distributing keys to the new house.

Golden keys gleamed in my brother's hand, then my sister-in-law's. One slipped into my younger brother's girlfriend's palm, and another was pressed warmly into our housekeeper Maria's. Smiles all around. Laughter ringing through the sunlit foyer.

But not a single key found its way to me.

I walked out alone, the weight of my suitcase nothing compared to the hollow in my chest. Behind me, their cheerful voices tangled together, a soundtrack of belonging from which I'd been cut.

And late that night, when my phone lit up with call after call, dozens, then hundreds, until I lost count, I let my father's calls go straight to voicemail. Every single one.

...

The early morning light filtered through a thin mist, falling upon the sprawling, brand-new suburban houses of Maple Creek Estates. The air smelled fresh, a mix of cut grass and damp earth, the kind of scent that should have been uplifting.

But as I stood before the three-story house with a neat front yard, a carefully wrapped gift in my hand, a cold weight settled in my chest.

A moving truck was parked out front, and burly men, shirts soaked with sweat, were hauling furniture inside.

I took a deep breath, forced my stiff lips into something resembling a smile, and walked in.

Everyone was in the living room.

My father, David Lawrence, was in his element, his booming voice echoing in the sparsely furnished space. "That sofa, yes, by the window! Better for the light!"

He saw me, and his smile widened. He beckoned. "Lauren! You're here! Come over!"

I walked over and handed him the gift. "Dad, Mom, congratulations on the new house. It's a porcelain vase I had a friend bring back from her trip. I thought it would fit the aesthetic."

My mother, Helen, took it, giving it only a cursory glance. "That's thoughtful of you. Just put it over there."

Her attention was already back on the movers, directing them to be careful with her prized heirloom oak dining set.

That casual disregard was like a tiny, sharp splinter working its way under my skin.

I was used to it.

Dad pulled a large, jangling bunch of shiny gold keys from his pocket, his eyes crinkling into happy slits.

"Come on, everyone, gather round! It's key-giving time! Everyone gets one! Today is a great day for the Lawrence family!"

My older brother, Michael, was the first to step forward. Dad clapped him on the shoulder and pressed a key into his palm. "Michael, you'll have to share the responsibility for this house now."

His wife, Jessica, immediately latched onto Michael's arm, beaming, her eyes scanning every inch of the villa like radar. "Thanks, Dad! We will!"

My younger brother, Kevin, and his new girlfriend, Chloe, stepped forward shyly.

Dad chuckled, pulling out two keys and handing one to each. "Kevin, time to step up. And Chloe, please, make yourself at home, consider this your home too from now on."

Chloe looked utterly mortified, her hands coming up instinctively as if to ward off the overwhelming kindness.

But Mom took Chloe's hand warmly. "None of that, now. Of course it's yours. We're so happy to welcome you to the family, sweetheart."

Finally, Dad walked over to Maria, our housekeeper of over ten years, and handed her a key, too.

"Maria, thank you for all your hard work over the years. You're part of this family, too."

Maria looked flustered and touched, her eyes glistening.

The living room was filled with a warm, festive atmosphere.

Everyone held that key, a tangible symbol of being 'family,' their faces glowing with happiness.

I stood on the outermost edge of the group, my hands in my pockets, clenching and unclenching.

I half-reached out, then pulled back, waiting for my father to look my way.

He stood less than ten feet away, yet it felt like an invisible wall separated us.

No one noticed my empty hands. No one asked why I didn't have one.

"Well, look who decided to grace us with her presence. What's the occasion? The big-shot executive slumming it with us common folk on moving day?" Jessica's snide voice cut through the air, dripping with undisguised sarcasm.

She looked my professional suit up and down and smirked. "But then, you've got your own fancy place downtown, don't you? Why would you even bother with this?"

I gritted my teeth, forcing down the surge of hurt and anger, and plastered a stiff smile on my face. "Don't be ridiculous, Jessica. This is my home. Of course I'd help."

"Your home?" Jessica let out an exaggerated laugh. "Your home is that high-end apartment in the city, isn't it? You didn't even get a key, and you still call it your home?"

Her voice was just loud enough for those nearby to hear.

I felt my cheeks burn as if I'd been publicly slapped.

I turned away from her and went to lift one of the heaviest boxes.

The sharp edges dug into my arms, but I barely felt the physical pain.

My mother walked past and said offhandedly, "Sure you can handle that? Wouldn't be much of a director if you throw out your back, would you?"

Her words sounded like concern, but her eyes never quite landed on me.

The housewarming dinner was held in the new dining room. The long heirloom oak dining table was laden with food.

The family gathered around, raising their glasses.

Dad stood up, his face flushed with pride and maybe a little wine. "Today, to celebrate our new home, I'll also assign the rooms."

My heart leaped into my throat.

"The master suite, for your mother and me."

"The largest east-facing bedroom goes to Kevin. He'll be getting married soon; it'll be the bridal suite."

Chloe immediately looked down, embarrassed. "Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence, that's too much, we couldn't..."

Mom interrupted her with a smile. "Nonsense! Nothing but the best for you!"

Dad continued, "The west-facing bedroom is for Michael and Jessica."

Jessica's face lit up, and she immediately scooped some food onto Dad's plate. "Thank you, Dad!"

"And Chloe, you're part of the family now. The room on the third floor with the terrace is yours. You can grow some flowers out there."

I listened quietly, feeling the blood in my veins slowly turn to ice.

From start to finish, not a single word was mentioned about me.

I was like a guest who'd been invited to the party at the last minute. An outsider.

It felt like an invisible hand had ripped my heart wide open, and a cold wind was whistling through the tear.

I stood up and picked up my jacket from the chair.

"Dad, Mom, I have an emergency meeting at the company. I need to go."

My voice was eerily calm, surprising even me.

No one asked me to stay.

Dad just frowned. "No matter how busy work is, you still need to take care of yourself."

Mom said, "Drive safely."

Michael looked at me, seeming like he wanted to say something, but stopped himself.

I didn't look at them again. I turned, dragging the small suitcase I'd arrived with, and walked out of that opulent, suffocating "home."

Behind me, the sounds of clinking glasses and cheerful conversation continued, a world I no longer belonged to.

As I stepped through the front gate, I glanced back.

Through the brightly lit living room window, I could see silhouettes moving about, heard the muffled sounds of laughter.

That was a complete family.

And I was the extra piece—the one that didn't fit anywhere.