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MidReal Story
The Heartbreak Boy
Scenario:Cam is a 28 year old korean boy who has a newborn baby named Lisa. Cam lives with his adopted mom, Doreen. Cam also has a boyfriend named peirce who was born in paris
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Camilo
first_person_protagonist, male. He is a 28yearold Korean adoptee living in Australia. He is introspective, loving, and culturally sensitive. Adopted by Doreen and Edward in his infancy, Cam formed a close bond with his parents. He has a supportive relationship with his boyfriend, Pierce, and is now a proud father to baby Lisa. He navigates life's challenges while embracing his identity as a KoreanAustralian father and partner.
Doreen
side_character, female. She is Camilo's adoptive mother, an Australian native with red hair. She is nurturing, loving, and openminded. She adopted Cam along with her husband Edward in the late 1980s. Raised Cam alongside her husband, Doreen played a significant role in shaping Cam's identity. Her supportive environment allowed Cam to grow into a confident individual. She remains a key figure in Cam's life as he navigates fatherhood.
Lisa
side_character, female. She is Camilo's newborn daughter, born in the early months of 2024. She is the center of attention for Cam and Pierce. She brings joy and responsibility to their lives. Her arrival marks a new chapter for the couple, fostering a deeper bond between them as they navigate fatherhood and motherhood collectively. Lisa's presence changes the dynamics of their relationship, filling it with purpose and love.
My name is Camilo, and I am a 28 year old Korean boy adopted by Australian parents when I was just a baby.
I was adopted in the late 1980s by Doreen and Edward.
Doreen has red hair and is an Australian native.
I don't know much about my biological parents, but I do know that I was sent to Australia from an orphanage in Seoul, South Korea, when I was just six months old.
I don't remember anything about my life in Korea or the plane ride to Australia.
All I know is what my parents have told me about how I came to join their family.
I was lucky to have been adopted by such wonderful and open-minded parents as Doreen and Edward.
They have always been honest with me about my adoption and answered any questions I had about my background and identity.
They have also taken me to Korea twice to visit the orphanage where I was living until I was adopted.
I sit in the dimly lit nursery, watching Lisa stir in her crib.
Her face scrunches up, and within seconds, soft whimpers turn into full-blown wails.
I move quickly, scooping her up into my arms.
Her tiny body feels tense with hunger.
I walk into the kitchen with her, balancing her against my chest as I prepare her bottle.
I measure out the formula just like Pierce showed me, making sure to get it exactly right.
The microwave hums as it warms the milk, and I test the temperature on my wrist like Doreen taught me.
Lisa's cries soften as I settle into the rocking chair with her, guiding the bottle to her mouth.
"Camilo," Pierce's voice breaks the quiet, "have you thought about what you want to do when we go back to Korea next month?"
I hesitate, then reply, "I think it's time I look for my biological parents."
Pierce nods, a hint of surprise in his eyes, "I figured as much; I've already started making some inquiries for you."
While feeding Lisa, I notice how her tiny fingers curl around my thumb, and the gesture triggers memories of my own adoption story.
The dim kitchen light casts soft shadows as I tell Pierce about the orphanage staff's explanation - how my birth mother had desperately wanted a daughter.
Pierce leans against the counter, listening intently as I describe the mix of confusion and hurt I felt learning this as a child.
Lisa finishes her bottle, and I gently shift her to my shoulder for burping.
Pierce moves closer, placing his hand supportively on my back as I continue sharing details about my early days at the orphanage.
I gently pat Lisa's back as she rests against my shoulder, her tiny breaths warm against my neck.
The kitchen remains quiet except for the soft ticking of the wall clock and Lisa's occasional gurgles.
My voice grows thick as I describe the cold tile floors of the orphanage and the metal-framed beds lined up in rows.
Pierce moves closer, his familiar scent mingling with Lisa's baby powder fragrance.
When I mention how the staff avoided my questions about my birth mother, Pierce's fingers tighten on my shoulder.
Lisa lets out a small burp, and I shift her in my arms, wiping her mouth with the cloth.
I carry Lisa back to her crib, settling her down with a soft blanket.
Pierce follows me to my home office, where the computer hums in the darkness.
He brings me a cup of chamomile tea as I log into the Korean adoption registry website.
My hands shake slightly as I type my case number into the search bar.
The screen loads slowly, and finally, a scanned document appears in Korean with an English translation below.
My eyes fix on a single line: "Father: Kim Sung-ho, deceased 2008."
I stare at the screen, my fingers hovering over the Korean characters next to "Cause of Death."
Pierce leans closer, his hand steady on my shoulder.
I click the translate button, and the word "suicide" appears in stark English text.
My chest tightens as I scroll through the document, searching for more details.
The report states he jumped from his apartment building in Seoul, leaving no note behind.
Pierce pulls up a chair beside me, taking my hand as I continue reading.
The clock on my desk reads 3 AM when I finally find an old address listed under his name.
I scroll through more records on the adoption registry site while Pierce refills our tea.
The screen shows a woman's profile - Mary Choi - listed as my birth mother.
My chest tightens as I read further, discovering she has a daughter named Lim.
Pierce leans in closer, pointing to the dates that confirm Lim is my younger half-sister.
I click through photos, seeing a woman with eyes that mirror mine and a teenage girl who shares my smile.
My hands shake as I copy down their contact information, wondering if they even know I exist.
I walk to the bedroom closet where I keep my pregnancy photos.
My steps are careful not to wake Lisa.
I open the wooden box on the top shelf, searching for the picture from eight months ago.
It's the one where my belly is swollen under a blue maternity shirt as I smile at Pierce's camera in our backyard.
The setting sun had cast a warm glow that day, highlighting my tired but hopeful expression.
Sitting on the bed, I study my face in the photo, searching for features I share with Mary Choi.
I realize that finding them might be the only way to truly understand who I am.
I pack my suitcase in the early morning while Pierce feeds Lisa.
My hands shake as I fold clothes and check the address of Mary Choi's home in Seoul for the hundredth time.
The taxi confirmation shows a 2 PM pickup.
Doreen arrives to watch Lisa, hugging me tightly and slipping a family photo into my jacket pocket.
I double-check my passport and the printed directions in both English and Korean.
Pierce helps me close my overstuffed suitcase, and I kiss Lisa's forehead goodbye.
We stand in the airport terminal with Pierce holding Lisa.
My flight to Seoul starts boarding in twenty minutes, and I keep checking my carry-on for the folder containing Mary Choi's information.
Lisa wears the yellow onesie Doreen bought her.
When the final boarding call echoes through the speakers, I kiss her soft cheek one last time, inhaling her baby powder scent.
I turn away, determined to uncover the truth waiting on the other side of the world.
I step out of the taxi onto a narrow Seoul street, clutching the wrinkled paper with Mary Choi's address.
The neighborhood feels both foreign and familiar - concrete apartment buildings rising against the morning sky, signs in Hangul that I struggle to read.
My hands shake as I check the building numbers, matching them to my notes.
A group of schoolchildren passes by, their backpacks bouncing.
I find the right building - a weathered twelve-story complex with potted plants by the entrance.
I take a deep breath and press the intercom button for apartment 8B.
"Hello?" a woman's voice crackles through the speaker, sounding older than I expected.
"Hi, is this Mary Choi? My name is Emily, and I think you might be my birth mother."
I freeze at the intercom, my finger still pressed against the cold metal button.
Mary's voice crackles again, this time in broken English, "Wait, Cam."
My heart pounds against my ribs.
I hear shuffling movements through the intercom and the sound of multiple locks turning from behind the heavy security door.
I step back, adjusting my jacket and running my hands through my hair.
The door opens slowly, revealing a petite woman in her fifties.
She wears a floral blouse and slippers.
Her eyes - my eyes - widen as she takes me in.
Mary's voice trembles slightly, "Emily, is it really you?"
I nod, my throat tight with emotion, "Yes, and I have so many questions."
She gestures for me to come inside, whispering, "Then let's find the answers together."
I sit on Mary's floral couch, my hands shaking as I open my phone's photo gallery.
The living room smells of kimchi and cleaning products.
When I show her the picture of me pregnant in the blue maternity shirt, her eyes widen in confusion.
"Emily... you boy?" she asks, leaning closer to examine the photo.
My throat tightens as I explain, "I'm not Emily. I'm Camilo - or Cam. I was born male."
Mary's face pales as understanding dawns.
She clutches the edge of her blouse, looking from the photo to my face repeatedly.
I sit across from her, watching her hands fidget with the fabric of her blouse.
The room is dimly lit, with only a single lamp illuminating the space.
Mary's eyes dart between me and the photo, her expression a mix of confusion and disbelief.
I take a deep breath and ask the question that has haunted me since childhood, "The orphanage told me you wanted a daughter, not a son. Is that true?"
Mary's eyes widen further, and she shakes her head vigorously.
"No, no," she says in broken English, her accent thick.
"I want boy. Always want boy."
She reaches for a tissue on the coffee table and dabs at her eyes as tears form.
"They lie to you. I too young, too poor. Father's family force me."
I sit quietly, processing her words.
She wanted to keep me.
She never wanted a daughter over me.
The revelation settles heavily in my chest.
I pull up a recent photo of Lisa on my phone and hold it out to Mary, "Do you want to see your grandchild?"
My thumb hovers over the screen for a moment before I show her the image of Lisa in her yellow onesie.
"Her name is Lisa," I say, watching Mary's face closely.
She leans forward, studying the photo intently, her hands clasped together.
The silence stretches as she takes in Lisa's features - her round cheeks, dark eyes, and the slight curl of her hair.
I lean back on Mary's worn floral couch, scrolling through more photos of Lisa on my phone.
The afternoon sun filters through the lace curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.
I show her pictures from my pregnancy, and her eyes widen as she sees the ultrasound images.
My finger stops on one taken at 32 weeks, where Lisa's tiny fist appears raised.
"She'd kick all the time," I say, smiling as I remember those moments.
"Especially during meetings. And whenever Pierce played classical music, she'd move wildly."
Mary inches closer on the couch, her shoulder touching mine as she peers at the grainy black-and-white image.
Her voice trembles with emotion as she whispers, "She's perfect."
In the dimly lit living room, I swipe through more photos on my phone, showing Mary Pierce holding Lisa at the hospital.
Her eyes narrow as she studies the image, her finger hovering over Pierce's face.
"Wait... Pierce?"
Mary asks, her voice tight with confusion.
I nod, "Yes, he's my boyfriend. Lisa's other father."
Mary's hand drops from the phone screen to her lap.
Her breathing becomes shallow, and she grips the edge of her floral couch cushion.
I sit stiffly on Mary's floral couch, the cushions worn and soft.
Her wide eyes stare at me, her question hanging in the air.
The afternoon light casts shadows across her face, illuminating her features.
The distance between us on the couch seems to grow as I wait for her to speak again.
My hands grip my phone tighter, the screen still showing the photos from the hospital.
Pierce's smile is warm, his eyes filled with joy as he holds Lisa.
Mary's voice finally breaks the silence, her tone cautious, "Do you want Lisa?"
The words hang in the air like a challenge.
I swallow hard, my heart pounding in my chest.
The room feels smaller than it did just moments ago, the walls closing in on me.
I force myself to meet Mary's gaze, my voice steady, "Lisa is our child. Pierce and I had her through surrogacy."
Mary's eyes widen further, confusion etched on her face.
She shakes her head, muttering something in Korean under her breath.