Adoption papers

Alexander stared at the papers spread out before him. He had opened the brown folder out of nothing more than idle curiosity, expecting perhaps some government paperwork—social security documents, maybe, or some health records. His father, a retired librarian, still helped out with clerical work at the civic office every now and then. It wouldn't have been strange for a folder like this to be left on the table.

But what he found instead made his breath catch.

There, tucked in between the innocuous files, was a page stamped and dated. He would've skimmed right past it—until one word stood out in bold.

"Adoption."

At first, he thought it was some reference document. Maybe a form someone had requested help filling out.

But as his eyes moved down the page, something shifted. His name was on it.

Alexander.

His full name.

Adopted.

He blinked, heart thudding violently in his chest.

He reread the words. Once. Twice. Each time hoping they would change.

They didn't.

The room suddenly felt colder. He sat back in the chair, the paper still trembling slightly in his hand. His mind couldn't process it all at once. The walls around him felt tighter. His ears rang.

First the proposal… now this.

He had spent the day suppressing pain. Trying to act like Krarth's betrayal didn't cut as deep as it did. Trying not to think too much about Selene's shrug, as if his love for her had meant nothing. And now this?

He wasn't even who he thought he was.

Twice. Twice in one day, something inside him broke. Was it some cruel joke? Did the universe have a grudge against him?

"Is this some kind of punishment?" he muttered aloud, the bitterness leaking into his voice. "First my friends, then… this?"

He squeezed his eyes shut.

He didn't know what to believe. What was true. Who was real.

His heart felt like it was splitting open, the raw ache deeper than words could reach. For a brief moment, he wanted to scream. To cry. To throw the folder across the room and demand the world explain itself.

But he didn't.

Instead, Alexander inhaled sharply and folded the paper with care. He placed it back exactly the way it had been. As if nothing had happened.

If there was one thing he had learned today, it was that showing pain didn't change anything.

Pretend. Act normal. Bury it.

He closed the folder and slid it back under the stack of papers. When his parents returned, they'd find everything just as they left it.

He rose to his feet slowly, almost mechanically. His limbs felt heavier now. Not from exhaustion—but from the weight of it all. And yet he moved.

He grabbed his jacket, slipped on his shoes, and stepped outside into the night.

Boston's streets were quiet at this hour. A few cars rumbled by, headlights casting fleeting shadows. The air was crisp, laced with the distant scent of city dust and summer air.

Alexander walked aimlessly, letting the rhythm of his steps numb his thoughts. He passed familiar houses, some glowing with life, others dark and silent. Somewhere, a dog barked. A window slammed shut. Ordinary sounds in an increasingly unreal world.

The streetlamps above flickered faintly.

And then—a sound.

Engines.

He slowed.

A convoy of matte black SUVs rolled down the otherwise empty street. Their windows were tinted, their presence too polished, too coordinated.

The vehicles halted in perfect unison.

Before Alexander could take another step, doors opened. Men stepped out, dressed in suits, their expressions unreadable.

He blinked.

"Wha—?"

One of them approached him without hesitation.

"Alexander," the man said. Not a question. A statement.

Alexander took a step back, confusion breaking through his numbness. "Who—?"

A prick on his neck. Quick. Sharp.

He barely had time to gasp before the dizziness surged. The world tilted, warped, colors bleeding together. His knees buckled.

The last thing he saw was the stars above—

—and the cold, impassive eyes of the man who caught him as he fell.

Then, darkness.