Annie's friends and classmates gave me strange looks and even asked her how old I was, wondering if I had just started elementary school.

The truth was, we went to the same middle school, but I rarely talked to anyone. There were 49 kids in my class, and I sat at the back of the classroom.

No one wanted to be my friend because I wore old clothes that did not fit, and I was not very talkative. They said I was dirty and smelled bad, like an orphan.

Annie glanced at me and quickly explained, "No, we're the same age. Forget about her. Let's just blow out the candles."

Seeing how awkward I looked standing off to the side, Aunt Monica walked over and gently told me to join Annie in blowing out the candles. But standing next to her only made me feel more out of place.

Someone wrinkled their nose and said, "Ugh, what's that smell?"

I instinctively shuddered.

Others started sniffing too. Annie frowned and said, "Cursida Claire, is that you? Maybe you should go take a shower."

I quickly looked down and sniffed my clothes. But I had just showered, so how could I smell?

"It's not me…" I then realized I was wearing slippers.

"Is it the slippers?" someone suggested.

"Stop talking nonsense! Those are my dad's slippers, and they're new. The smell is coming from you, Cursida. Do you have athlete's foot or something?" Annie said, looking serious.

I didn't know whether to take the slippers off right away or try to explain.

Seeing the tension, my drunk mom staggered over and slapped me hard without saying a word.

"You're already so grown, but you can't even keep yourself clean! Go outside and wait!"

The other kids were shocked. They stared at me and Mom, wide-eyed.

My face turned bright red, and for the first time, I felt a spark of pride itching to break through the surface. But it was quickly crushed by Mom's slap.

It was Aunt Monica who stepped in to help, saying, "Why are you hitting the child? It's not her fault! It's Zach's foot odor, not hers."

I looked at Aunt Monica, grateful. I often thought that if she were Mom, life would be so much easier. She would speak kindly to me, never hit me, and I would get cake on my birthday instead of having to work all day.

But Mom shot me a look full of disdain and turned to comfort Annie with a face filled with guilt.

"Annie, I'm so sorry. This little brat ruined your party. I'll deal with her when we get home."

Fear twisted inside me. I knew what that meant. Whenever Mom 'dealt' with me, it was never good.

She pulled me out of Aunt Monica's house, but the moment we were outside, she shoved me hard. I lost my balance and tumbled down the stairs. She was not satisfied, though, and slapped me twice more.

"You're such a worthless brat. Why didn't you just die when you were born?"

Dazed by the slaps, I could not even tell if she was yelling at me or cursing me.

I was born on the same day as Annie. She was celebrating happily in the house while I was being scolded and beaten by Mom.

Grief and anger hit me all at once. Just then, something inside me snapped. I struggled free and shoved her away.

I could not help but scream, "If you don't love me, why did you even have me?"

Mom froze, caught off guard by my outburst. "You think I wanted you? If it weren't for…"

She trailed off, her face going blank as she suddenly stopped talking.

Back home, Mom opened another bottle of liquor and drank in the dark living room. She cursed me as she drank, blaming me for ruining Annie's birthday party.

I hid in the kitchen, too afraid to make a sound. My bed was in there too.

Luckily, the moonlight shone through the window, illuminating the space. I wiped my tears and pulled books out of the cabinet to read.

I was so stupid. But if I worked hard enough, maybe I could catch up with Annie and make it to high school.

Mom staggered into the kitchen, completely drunk. I quickly shoved my books under the blanket, startled.

She walked over to my bed and stood in front of me. I froze, watching her as she smiled at me gently. It was the same smile she only ever gave to Annie.

She sat down next to me and suddenly said, "I love you so much. Do you hate me?"

I was caught off guard for a moment, and then, a strange feeling of joy rushed through me. Mom had actually said she loved me.

But in the next moment, she leaned her head on my shoulder while her body swayed a little. She slurred out the words, "Annie, when you get into college, come find me. Those worthless people don't deserve to raise you.

"If I hadn't been broke and jobless back then, I never would've let them switch you with that trash. I really love you…"

In that instant, it felt like my head had been hit with a hammer.

Was she telling the truth?

I could not believe it. Was I not her real child? Could I really be Aunt Monica's daughter?

I thought about how Aunt Monica treated Annie with so much care and her loving gaze. My emotions were in a whirlwind. Could I really have a mom as loving and kind as that?

I thought it over for a long time before deciding that the next day, I would go talk to Aunt Monica.

After school, I intentionally followed Aunt Monica, who was picking up Annie, and called out to her just as they were about to hop into the car. Aunt Monica was confused but let Annie go in first before coming over to talk to me.

"What's up? What do you need to talk about?"

I nervously told her everything Mom had drunkenly said the night before. I swallowed hard and asked, "Aunt Monica, am I really your daughter?"

Aunt Monica did not react the way I expected. Her smile vanished, and in its place was a cold, distant look that was almost like my mom's.

She asked me, "Do you really think I'm your mom?"

A wave of fear hit me, and I suddenly regretted asking. Would Aunt Monica start to hate me too?

"I... I want you to be my mom."

Aunt Monica smirked at me. She looked at me like I was stupid, and her earlier warmth was completely gone.

"You think I didn't know you're my child? But so what? Whether you're my child or not doesn't matter. I don't want you, and I'll never see you as my daughter."

With that, she turned and walked away.

I stood there, frozen. I realized that I would never find the love I longed for. No matter who my biological mom was, neither of them cared about me.

I was a child nobody wanted.

From then on, I became quieter, no longer thinking about who might love me. I still didn't know where I truly belonged. But I knew one thing—the only way to change my future was through education.

I studied day and night, during class, after class, and at home. I cleaned, cooked, and hid in the kitchen to study.

I was determined to make it into the best high school, and then the best university.

Whether they loved me or not no longer mattered.

I loved myself.

By the time the midterms were over, I had scored the highest in the whole grade, with Annie coming in second.

After she finished the exam, she cried because she had never gotten second place and had never been surpassed by me before. Seeing Annie cry, Aunt Monica was heartbroken. She pulled Annie into her arms, comforting her over and over again.

She said, "No matter what place you come in, I'll always love you."

Mom also arrived. When she saw Annie looking sad, she immediately kicked me. "Good-for-nothing! Why did you make Annie cry? Apologize right now!"

In front of everyone, I was slapped to my knees.

This time, Aunt Monica did not even look at me and took Annie away without a word.

I was kicked by Mom several times. She yelled at me, asking if I was mute and why I was not apologizing.

But what had I done wrong? Why should I apologize?

It was the homeroom teacher who stopped Mom, and only then did she let me go. But as she left, she spat on me and said, "You useless mute fool! You're better off dead!"

After saying that, she rushed off, probably to comfort Annie.

The homeroom teacher, feeling sorry for me, took me back to her place and made me a cup of hot tea.

"Curs… The weather is so cold. Drink this to warm up."

She could not bring herself to say my name as she knew the meaning of it.

The homeroom teacher said, "From now on, we won't call you that. You're so good at studying. How about I call you 'Stella' from now on?"