Even the pregnancy test, the miscarriage report, my mother’s death certificate—I kept them all together. Proof of everything that had been ignored, dismissed, or twisted.
And still, none of it mattered to them.
**
On the third day, I made a call.
“Professor Park?” My voice came out calm, almost too calm.
“Aria!” His voice brightened immediately. “It’s been a while. How are you doing?”
“I’m calling about the volunteer program,” I said. “The medical mission in Africa. Is there still a spot available?”
There was a short pause. “Actually… yes. We just lost someone, so there’s an opening. But Aria, it’s a two-year commitment minimum. Are you sure—”
“I’m sure,” I cut in gently but firmly. “I want to leave. As soon as possible.”
