Chapter 5 – Non-existence

Anna I felt a cold shiver crawl down my spine as Tyler walked out. A familiar fear settled in—one I’ve lived with my entire life. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. Growing up alone left me with a deep sense of longing. Longing for companionship. Longing to be accepted. To be loved. To be significant in his life. But the reality is… I’m not. Though I’ve come to terms with that truth, the coldness still lingers in my heart every time I’m alone. I looked over at Mr. Hamburg, sleeping soundly in the hospital bed, and my mind wandered back to Tyler’s question: Why are you doing this? Well… let me back up a bit. It was Monday—a special day for me. Like every year, Aunt Cherry woke me up with pancakes and a huge smile. She sang me Happy Birthday, gave me a gift, and told me to get ready because we were going to spend the whole day together. Everything was perfect… until I found her lying face down on the floor. That was the day my beautiful world came crashing down. Aunt Cherry was suddenly diagnosed with stage five cancer. With her constantly going in and out of the hospital, she could no longer take care of me. Not long after I moved in with Uncle Ian, Aunt Cherry passed away. At first, everything was fine. Uncle Ian treated me like one of his own. He got me everything I needed and made sure I felt included. But two weeks in, everything started to change. Slowly, I was being isolated from the rest of the family. I never understood why—until one night, I overheard them talking. They were planning to put me up for adoption... because I was a jinx. They said I killed my mother, brought bad luck to my aunt, and now I was cursing their business. I cried and begged them to let me stay, but it was inevitable. The next morning, Aunt Tati woke me up and told me to pack a bag. She said I was going to meet my birth father. Excited and naïve, I pulled out my nicest dress and braided my hair. I wanted to look my best—for him. I wanted to make him proud. I didn’t know any better. I still remember the first time I laid eyes on him. He was well-built—tall and proud. The kind of man every little girl might dream of having as a father. “Daddy!” I shouted, running toward him, reaching for his hand with innocent excitement. A child dreams of smiles, hugs, warmth, and affection when they meet a parent for the first time. But I received none of that. He pushed me away, dusted off his sleeve like I was something dirty, and said, “It’s Mr. Hamburg from now on. You don’t deserve to call me father.” “…Okay,” I whispered. My naïve mind adamantly believed things would change someday. As time went on, that belief slowly began to fade. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, and still, I prayed for a change. Eventually, prayer gave way to hope. One year passed. Then ten. Then twenty. But nothing changed. He never said another word to me. Never spared me even a glance. It wasn’t until much later that I learned the real reason behind his coldness. If only I had never been born, things might have been different. He could have had a happier life. If only I didn’t exist… maybe everything wouldn’t have turned out this way. So, why did I do this? Because I owe him everything. Like he always said, “An eye for an eye, a life for a life.” I ruined his life—so he ruined mine. I stared out at the bustling city and sighed heavily. From up here, I could see all kinds of activity—some PG, some definitely Rated R. Seriously, people need to start closing their blinds at night. But that wasn’t what held my attention. What caught my eye was a little family of three. They didn’t seem to have much, but they were smiling as they ate dinner together, huddled close. It was simple, ordinary... and everything I’d ever wanted. A life so close, yet always out of reach. The sound of the door opening pulled me out of my daze. When I saw who it was, I panicked and rushed to find a place to hide. I was here first, but somehow, it felt like I was intruding on something private—something I shouldn’t witness. I didn’t intend to eavesdrop, but the sound of a frustrated bang snapped through the silence, forcing me to peek. What I saw wasn’t the same man I had met a year ago. This man looked… sad. Gloomy. Hurt. But why? “Dr. Anderson…” a woman’s voice followed softly. I recognized her—Dr. Violet. She was the one who looked after me during my stay as a patient. What is she to him? Are they close? Is she the woman in his life now? I wonder. “We’re not miracle workers. Death… is sometimes inevitable,” she said gently, trying not to lay blame. Death? Did something happen? “It shouldn’t have happened,” he muttered, his voice heavy with guilt. “I was so close…” He blamed himself. The woman placed her hand gently on his shoulder to console him. She rubbed his arm softly and whispered, “It’s okay. It’s not your fault. The patient is in critical condition.” “I was so close…” he muttered, his fists pounding against the railing again and again. Anger, frustration, self-blame—every negative emotion radiated from him, so strong I could feel it from where I hid. It was terrifying to see him like this. Dr. Violet gently turned his face toward her and leaned in. A soft kiss—tender and reassuring—coaxed him like cool water poured over a burning fire. She pulled away and whispered, “Better now?” The calmed man nodded and rested his head on her shoulder. He looked like an exhausted little boy, and she, his place of solace. Even from a distance, I felt out of place—like I didn’t belong here. But I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Frozen in place, I looked away and stopped peeking. “Let’s go back. We still have to inform the patient’s family,” Dr. Violet said gently. Without a word, Dr. Anderson followed her like a lost puppy. In the past year we were married, not once had I seen him like that. Not that we spent much time together—but in the few moments we did, he was always aloof, composed, and poised. Around her, though, he was different. He let his guard down. He showed weakness, frustration, even anger—the kind of emotions a man only reveals to someone truly special. The way he looked at her, spoke to her, acted around her… she was special. She was the one he had been waiting for all along. And I? I was just the past—someone easily forgotten. I left the rooftop with a heavy heart. During the short time we spent together, I had envied him. He had a family that loved and supported him. People who stood by him. People who truly knew and cherished him. Me? I had no one. Not even a place to exist.