We were on our way to celebrate our son’s birthday when we got into a car crash.

When I woke up, I looked at my family gathered around my hospital bed and cracked a joke:

“Sorry, but who are you guys?”

I held back a smile, curious to see how they'd humor their "amnesiac" patient.

Would my mother grab my hand in a panic? Would my husband look at me with worry? Would my son rush over, crying and calling me Mom?

What I didn't expect was for them to freeze for a moment—and then, almost in unison, let out sighs of relief.

My mother was the first to speak, her tone unmistakably lighter, as if a huge weight had been lifted.

"If you don’t remember, it’s probably for the best. This is Lindsay—your sister, she’s my daughter. You were adopted."

My husband then pointed at me and said to our son, "You should call her Aunt Wendy."

Before the shock could even sink in, I watched the child I'd fought so hard to protect turn and throw himself into the arms of Lindsay.

"Mom! I played outside all day. I missed you so much!"

So that was the truth. My amnesia was exactly what they'd been hoping for.

In that case, I didn't need this made-up life anymore.

"Charles, from now on you need to listen to Mommy. Don't cling to your Aunt Wendy anymore."

My husband, Jason Hubert, looked at me. His eyes flickered, but there wasn't a trace of guilt or unease.

My son peeked out from Lindsay's arms and glanced at me cautiously. Then, in a clear little voice, he called out, "Aunt Wendy."

Those words landed right in the center of my chest. A sharp, throbbing ache spread under my ribs.

Lindsay walked up to my hospital bed, her voice thick with disapproval.

"Wendy, Jason and I are already so busy with work. We asked you to help take care of Charles, and you couldn't even do that right?

"Thank goodness Charles is fine. If something had happened to him, could you have taken responsibility? Honestly, what can you do properly?"

The moment she finished, the woman I'd always tiptoed around—my own birth mother—immediately chimed in.

"Lindsay, don't be so hard on her. After all, she doesn't have Wheeler blood. She's not like you—excellent at everything since you were little. I guess this is just how things were meant to be."

She sighed, then took Lindsay's hand, her eyes full of affection.

My heart froze over.

I was the Wheeler family's real daughter. Lindsay was the nanny's daughter—the one who stole over twenty years of my life.

Back then, to give her own daughter a better future, the nanny secretly switched us at birth.

I grew up by her side. She'd beat and scold me at the drop of a hat, repeating the same thing over and over, "Look at Lindsay—that's what a real young lady looks like. You're not even worthy of carrying her shoes. Stay in your lane!"

When the truth finally came out, I was brought back to the Wheeler family.

I thought my suffering was over. I never imagined my own mother, believing I'd lost my memory, would cast me aside so easily.

"Wendy, are you even listening to me?"

Jason's voice pulled me back. His tone was ice-cold.

"Charles already said it—you were looking at your phone while driving, which is why you crashed into the guardrail. It's a good thing he was wearing his seat belt. What if something had happened? Is this how an aunt should act?"

I stared at my son in disbelief.

At the moment of the crash, I'd instinctively jerked the wheel hard to the right, slamming my side into the guardrail. I'd pulled him tight against me, shielding him with my own body.

My forehead hit the steering wheel. Glass cut into my arm. He wasn't hurt at all.

And now, the child I'd risked my life to protect was using his tender little voice to tell the cruelest lie.

"I didn't!"

I struggled to sit up, tugging at my wounds. Pain tore through me, and I gasped sharply.

"Do children lie?"

Jason's voice rose suddenly, the disgust in his eyes nearly swallowing me whole.

"Wendy, how did I never realize you were this shameless? You lie without even blinking!"

I tugged at the corner of my mouth, forcing a bitter smile.

"Why wouldn't he lie? He's very good at it."

Lindsay let out a fake gasp.

"Wendy, how can you say that about Charles? He's just a child! Are you trying to put Charles in danger on purpose so you can take all the Wheeler and Hubert family assets for yourself?"

What kind of ridiculous logic was that?

My mother's face darkened instantly. She pointed at me and snapped, "Wendy! Let me make this clear—don't you dare entertain such delusions! Stay in your lane!"

"Stay in your lane!"

Those words again.

Like a curse, they had followed me from childhood to now—from the nanny's lips to my biological mother's—never letting me go.

The strength drained from my body. I lowered my head, unwilling to continue a pointless argument.

Staring at the chaotic lines on my palm, I remembered someone once reading my fortune when I was little, saying I was born with thin luck and weak blood ties.

I had been too young to understand then. My foster mother only laughed and said, "Wendy, it's true. You don't have much luck."

The first half of my life really had unfolded just as that fortune described, yet I never believed in fate.

Later, I married Jason and had Charles. All the more, I felt that I couldn't possibly be the unlucky one.

It wasn't until today that I finally began to understand—some things simply can't be forced.

Tears welled in my eyes. I fought them back with everything I had.

I took a deep breath, then smiled.

"Since you're all so afraid I'll fight over the family assets, then I'll sever all ties with the family."

For a moment, both Jason and my mother froze, staring at me in shock. Only Lindsay—her eyes lit up with unrestrained delight.

"What did you say?" my mother was the first to recover.

Her voice turned shrill. "Sever ties? Wendy, you… say that again!"

Lindsay immediately looped her arm through hers and hurried to soothe her.

"Mom, don't be angry. She must have wanted this for a long time. She may just be an adopted daughter, but our family never treated her badly. We fed her well and provided for her, and yet she shows no gratitude at all. What an ingrate!"

My mother's already wavering heart was completely swayed by those words.

When she looked at me again, her gaze was filled with disappointment.

"Fine. Very well! If you want to cut ties, go ahead! Don't come crying to me with regrets!"

I smiled bitterly. With a family like this, what was there to regret?

Jason, who had been silent all this time, suddenly spoke. His voice softened, carrying a hint of consolation.

"Wendy, don't be so impulsive. Your mom is just angry. Family grudges don't last overnight. Is there really a need to take things to such extremes?"

I let out a cold laugh.

"Jason, what good guy act are you putting on now? As if you weren't part of scolding me just moments ago."

Jason's face darkened instantly.

Embarrassed and furious, he snapped, "Wendy! You really don't know what's good for you! I was trying to help, and this is your attitude?"

"Dad, Aunt Wendy, please don't argue." My son's timid voice broke in. He tugged at Jason's sleeve, looked up at him, and asked, "Does this mean Aunt Wendy won't live with us anymore? Does that mean I can stay with Mommy and Daddy all the time?"

Jason didn't answer. He only looked at me silently.

Lindsay kissed Charles on the forehead and said gently, "Of course. From now on, it'll just be the three of us—no more outsiders."

After saying that, she cast a provocative glance at me.

Watching Charles cheer, a wave of bitterness surged in my heart. This was the son I had risked my life to protect.

Seeing that I had no intention of stopping him, Jason's expression grew even darker.

He spoke coldly, "Wendy, it seems you really need to reflect on yourself. For the next few days, don't come home—and don't see our son either. You can come home when you've thought things through."

I scoffed. "Jason, what are you talking about? Our son? Didn't you just say earlier that I'm Charles's aunt?"

Jason's face flushed red at once, every word choking in his throat.

In the end, he could only glare at me fiercely before storming out of the hospital room.

In the silence that followed, I noticed a piece of candy by my pillow—something Jason must have left while I was unconscious. So he still remembered that I liked sweets when I was in a bad mood.

Perhaps because I had tasted too much bitterness in the past, I especially loved sweet things and never grew tired of them.

The candy wrapper rustled softly between my fingers, stirring old memories.

Growing up in a loveless environment made me feel that love was something painfully hard to obtain. I didn't even know how to love someone properly.

So when Jason pursued me, I was frightened at first.

But he was patient, using warmth and tenderness, little by little, to dismantle my defenses and thaw my frozen heart.

He made me believe that someone in this world could truly love me, and gave me the courage to take that final step.

I once thought that step was leading me toward happiness… until the day I was brought back to the Wheeler family.

I've never been a magnanimous person. The nanny tore me away from my family for over twenty years—and she raised me poorly on top of it.

I had always carried a grudge against her, and naturally, I could never warm to Lindsay, the beneficiary of her schemes.

Back then, Jason had casually said, "Lindsay didn't do anything wrong. She was just a child who didn't understand anything."

I had been angry with him for two whole days over that.

In the end, he had come to soothe me, and a single bag of candy had been enough to calm me down. That episode now felt like a dividing line between us. Life went on as usual, but looking back, I realize that moment marked the path I didn't take.

I popped the candy into my mouth. It melted on my tongue, but the sweetness quickly turned cloying.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

"Hello? Wendy! Why are you calling me? I thought you’d totally drowned in Jason’s little love bubble!"

It was my best friend, Gina Buckley.

She had been the only one at university who saw through all my pretenses and still chose to be my friend. After graduation, she went abroad, but we kept in touch.

"Gina," my voice was hoarse, "I'm planning to divorce… and leave the country."

She paused awhile as if thinking, then said, "Wendy… are you serious? You've finally made up your mind?"

"Yes. I've made up my mind." I stared out at the gray, overcast sky.

"But Gina, I need your help."

"Help? Just tell me! Through fire or water, I will follow without question!"

The day I was discharged, I didn't notify anyone.

When I dragged my unsteady steps across the threshold, the living room rang with laughter and cheer.

My breath caught, and I froze.

The full moon hung high outside, its soft silver light spilling over the four joyful figures inside.

All that was left for me was a thin sliver of cold, creeping into my chest.

When they saw me, the laughter cut off abruptly. The air turned thick with awkwardness.

I tugged at the corner of my mouth and deliberately asked in a detached tone, "Excuse me, where is my room?"

My mother's face stiffened.

Lindsay jumped up, eagerly pointing to the smallest, most tucked-away door at the top of the stairs. "Wendy, your things… we packed them all and put them there."

It was a cramped little room meant for the nanny.

In just a few days, every trace of me had been swept away and shoved into that tiny corner. Meanwhile, Lindsay's belongings had taken over the bedroom Jason and I had once shared.

I let out a bitter laugh.

"I thought you were conspiring together to deceive me. Now seeing where I live, I realize… I really am just an adopted daughter."

"Wendy…" Jason's face was etched with awkwardness as he stepped forward. "Why didn't you tell me you were being discharged? I could've picked you up."

I looked at him coldly, mocking, "How could I possibly trouble my brother-in-law for something so small?"

My mother's expression soured.

"Wendy! Don't be rude. Lindsay helped pack your things, and you can't even show gratitude? You're being sarcastic and rude!"

Lindsay's eyes instantly welled up, and she clung to my mother, looking pitiful.

Charles shouted at me, "You bad woman! Don't bully my mommy! Get out of our house!"

I couldn't help but laugh bitterly at the irony. Pain twisted through me, spasming, and my body trembled uncontrollably.

Jason had remained silent all this time. Now, his dark, bottomless eyes locked on me as he asked, "You don't have amnesia… do you?"

I looked at him and suddenly laughed.

My mother's face flickered with unease, but Lindsay still stood there, chest out, unashamed.

Charles seemed to sense something from the adults' reactions. He shouted at me viciously, "I don't want you as my mommy! You're not my mommy! You should never remember! You should never come back to our home!"

"Charles, shut up!" Jason finally barked.

Seeing my pale expression, he took my hand, holding it reassuringly. "Wendy, Charles is still a child. He doesn't mean it—don't take it seriously."

I pulled my hand back, smiling.

"A child? He's not a child anymore. He can tell right from wrong. Are these words something a child's thoughtlessness can just excuse?"

Seeing Jason waver, Lindsay's face went pale. She feigned weakness and collapsed into his arms.

"Jason… my head… it's spinning…"