My sister looks nervous as she says, “But Dad… I think Mom’s right. She-”

And before she can speak any more, my father pushes her out of the third-story window, then sprints to the door, throws it open, and runs down the hall. My mother, still in shock, clutches the baby me tight, frozen to the bed.

I slam the closet door shut. Twenty years of not knowing is too much, and I crumple to the ground, pulling my knees to my chest as I break down and cry.