I got pregnant when I was in Grade 10. My parents looked at me coldly and said, “You brought shame to this family. From now on, we are no longer our children.”

Everything inside me shattered.
“That’s impossible!” I cried. “I raised my child myself! What are you talking about?”

My father sighed, his voice weak with age.
“We adopted a baby who was left at our gate… eighteen years ago.”

My body went numb.
“Left… at the gate?”

My mother retrieved an old diaper from a cabinet. I recognized it instantly—the one I had wrapped my newborn in.

It felt like my heart was being stabbed.