Chapter 2

I locked the screen. The tears finally spilled, silent and bitter.

The bus wound through the drizzly streets of Portland, carrying me toward that home I never truly belonged to.

I had to come back.

The county clerk's office had called my cell this morning with an urgent reminder:

The window to file my petition for a Legal Name Change Order closed tomorrow afternoon.

Under Oregon law, missing this statutory window meant waiting a full eighteen months before the circuit court would docket another petition.

I could not survive another year and a half carrying the name Deseera Tucker.

In the rural trailer parks of Eastern Oregon, the name Deseera was a neon sign marking me as cheap and disposable.

Kids at school called me "trailer trash," barking dirty jokes behind my locker.

It was a badge of shame pinned to my chest since infancy.

Changing it was my long-held wish.

I rolled my suitcase up the concrete driveway of the Vance residence, a manicured two-story suburban home.

Then my steps halted.

Right beside the large green municipal recycling and trash bins at the curb sat two cardboard boxes.

My breath caught in my throat.

Inside the boxes were all my worldly possessions.

The Lotso strawberry bear plush Dad had bought me at the mall when they first brought me home.

The fluffy pink fleece pajamas and slippers Mom had picked out.

My college notebooks, my favorite hoodie, even my toothbrush.

Everything I had carefully collected as proof that I was finally loved had been unceremoniously dumped on the wet pavement.

A cold ache hollowed out my ribs.

The front door clicked open.

Annabelle stepped onto the porch, followed by Mom and Dad.

"Deseera? You... you're here?"

Annabelle murmured, lowering her gaze with textbook vulnerability.

Mom glanced nervously at the cardboard boxes beside the trash cans, smoothing her crimson coat.

"Deseera, don't overthink it. Those old clothes looked worn out, so I figured we'd clear some clutter."

"I was going to take you to the mall tomorrow to buy brand-new things."

Dad patted my shoulder, his booming voice smoothing over the tension.

"Your mother's right. Come inside. Dinner will be ready soon."

Annabelle immediately looped her arm through mine, her smile radiating practiced warmth.

"Yeah, we’ve been waiting for you."

I pulled my arm free and dragged my wet suitcase upstairs to what used to be my bedroom.

When I pushed the door open, my heart plummeted.

Every single trace of my existence had been erased.

The walls were covered with framed photographs—

Annabelle laughing with Jasper at prom, Annabelle baking pumpkin pies with Mom, Annabelle hugging Dad at the coast.

Jasper leaned against the doorframe, scowling.

“This room belonged to Annabelle. She is only staying for the long weekend to reminisce about her childhood."

"Do you really have to pull a long face?"

“Have you stopped to think what it felt like for her when she was suddenly ripped away from this home, from her own room?”

My chest burned with pent‑up hurt, yet I had no strength to argue back.

I pulled open drawers, searching for my official court name‑change petition.

It was nowhere to be found.

"Stop tearing the room apart," Jasper barked. "Annabelle needs to rest."

I looked up at the group standing in the doorway and spoke quietly.

"Where is my legal name change application? The stamped court papers that were in this drawer?"

Annabelle’s eyes went wide with feigned guilt.

"Oh... that paper? I thought it was just scrap paper."

"The bottom of my iced latte was sweating, so I used it as a coaster."

I rushed to the desk.

The paper was soaked through with milky coffee rings.

The once crisp official court form was crumpled, torn, and completely ruined.

It could no longer be submitted.

Yet tomorrow was the filing deadline.

All the hurt I’d held in finally spilled over. My eyes stung with tears as I stared at her.

"Why would you touch my personal documents without asking me?"

Jasper instantly stepped in front of Annabelle, shielding her behind his body.

"It’s just some paperwork. You can fill out another copy."

He stared me down, his tone ice‑cold.

"Annabelle feels terrible already. There is no reason for you to blow this out of proportion.”

Mom and Dad rushed into the room.

When they learned I would have to wait another eighteen months before I could refile for a legal name change,

Their faces showed zero real concern.

“It’s only a name. Eighteen months will fly by. Then you can go file it again.” Dad said casually.

Eleanor nodded, patting Annabelle's trembling back.

"Your father is right. You’ve gone by Deseera for eighteen years. What difference will a little more time make?”