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MidReal Story
The Secret
Scenario:Вечер окутал город своей мягкой, бархатной тьмой. Звезды, словно крошечные осколки льда, тускло мерцали на небосклоне, а редкие фонари бросали на мостовую причудливые тени. Натали, вернувшись домой после долгого дня, устало опустилась на скамейку возле подъезда. В руках она держала письмо, словно хрупкую птицу, готовую в любой момент вспорхнуть и улететь.
Она не спешила открывать конверт, словно предчувствуя, что внутри скрывается нечто, способное перевернуть ее привычный мир
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Natalie Thompson
cautious, and determined. Natalie receives a mysterious letter that changes her life, leading her to uncover secrets about her past and family. She struggles with the revelation that she is adopted and grapples with feelings of betrayal and confusion. Her journey takes her to confront her adoptive parents and seek answers about her biological family.
Evelyn Thompson
protective, and anxious. Evelyn has kept Natalie's adoption a secret for years, fearing the truth would disrupt their family dynamics. When confronted by Natalie, she reveals the adoption but remains evasive about details. Her actions are driven by a desire to maintain peace within the family while grappling with the consequences of her deception.
Lily Bennett
straightforward, and caring. Lily provides emotional support to Natalie during her crisis over the adoption revelation. Her unwavering friendship serves as a source of comfort for Natalie as she navigates this challenging time.
Natalie
The evening enveloped the city in its soft, velvety darkness.
Stars, like tiny shards of ice, faintly twinkled in the sky, while the sparse streetlights cast whimsical shadows on the pavement.
I sat down on a bench by the entrance of my home, my hands clutching an envelope as if it might suddenly fly away.
The envelope was as light as a feather, and the paper inside seemed just as fragile.
I did not hurry to open it.
Some unknown sense told me that the letter could change my life in a drastic way forever.
Sometimes I think that people can subconsciously sense when their life is about to change.
A slight tremble went through my body, though the evening was far from cold, and the air was mild.
Still, I shivered.
After a long day, my legs simply would not hold me any longer.
With a sigh, I sank onto a nearby bench and looked at the envelope in my hand.
It was white, with my name written in bold black letters.
There was no return address on it.
The postal stamp was also from my town, so the letter could have been written by anyone from my neighbor to my teacher from school.
But for what reason?
I turned the envelope over in my hands.
Everything about it seemed strange.
The letter itself was too heavy.
I slowly slid my finger under the envelope's flap, tearing it open.
The paper tore with a soft sound that seemed too loud in the quiet evening.
I pulled out a thick stack of papers, held together by a rusty paperclip.
The first page was a letter, written by hand in black ink that had slightly faded.
Below it were what looked like official documents, with a hospital letterhead.
A small photograph slipped out and fell to the ground.
When I picked it up, I saw a woman's face that looked uncannily like my own.
The streetlight above us flickered, casting strange shadows on her features.
I spread the papers across my lap, forcing myself to read through the medical records and adoption papers.
The woman in the photo was named Sarah Mitchell, according to the birth certificate.
She had the same high cheekbones and green eyes as me.
A folded note slipped from between the pages, and I opened it to reveal elegant handwriting.
Before I could read the words, a sound made me look up.
Footsteps echoed through the quiet evening, growing louder with each passing moment.
A man was approaching, his silhouette becoming clearer with each step.
"Are you Natalie?" he asked, his voice steady but laced with urgency.
"Yes," I replied, clutching the papers tighter, "Do you know who Sarah Mitchell is?"
He nodded, his eyes meeting mine with a mix of relief and apprehension, "She's your mother, and there's so much you need to know."
He reached for the papers, but I held them protectively to my chest.
I didn't trust him, despite his words.
Just then, a ginger cat darted between us, leaping onto my lap and sending the documents scattering across the dark sidewalk.
The cat settled on my lap, purring contentedly as it watched us.
I lunged forward, trying to gather the scattered medical records before they blew away in the wind.
The man helped, handing me the photograph that had landed in a puddle.
Our eyes met briefly, and I noticed something strange - he had the same green eyes as the woman in the picture.
"Who are you?" I demanded, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm your brother," he replied, his gaze unwavering, "and Sarah sent me to find you."
My heart pounded in my chest as I struggled to process his words, "Why now? What does she want from me?"
The man reached for the adoption papers, but they slipped from his grasp and were swept away by the wind.
We both lunged forward, chasing the scattered documents down the dark sidewalk.
The only sound was our footsteps echoing off the brick buildings, and the rustle of the papers as they blew away.
One medical record caught in a bush, which I snatched up quickly.
My newfound brother grabbed another from where it had become lodged in a fence, along with Sarah's photograph.
The remaining papers were swept towards an open storm drain at the corner of the street.
I sprinted ahead, my fingers brushing against the birth certificate just as it teetered on the drain's edge.
I lunged forward, my knees scraping against the rough concrete.
The paper slipped from my grasp and fell through the metal grate, disappearing into the darkness below.
I dropped to my stomach, peering through the rusty bars of the drain's metal grate.
The moon cast a faint beam of light onto the dry ledge about six feet down.
The birth certificate lay there, visible but just out of reach.
My alleged brother crouched beside me, shining his phone's light into the drain.
"We'll need more than a light to uncover the truth," he said, determination etched on his face.
I lay on the cold sidewalk next to the storm drain while my alleged brother held his phone light steady.
Spotting a discarded tree branch nearby, I stretched to grab it without taking my eyes off the paper below.
The branch was damp and slightly rotted, but long enough to potentially reach.
I carefully threaded it through the grate, scraping the rough concrete.
The birth certificate shifted slightly as I nudged it with the stick's tip.
One wrong move would send it tumbling deeper into the darkness.
I hold my breath as the soggy branch inches the birth certificate toward freedom.
The paper slides along the concrete ledge, leaving a wet trail.
My alleged brother keeps his phone light trained on the document while I make microscopic adjustments with trembling hands.
The branch catches a corner of the paper, and I slowly drag it upward.
When the certificate is almost within reach, the branch starts to crack.
I freeze, hearing the wood splinter.
One wrong move could send both branch and document tumbling into the darkness below.
With a final, careful tug, the birth certificate emerged from the shadows, safe in my grasp.
Still kneeling by the storm drain, I cradle the damp paper in my trembling hands, protecting it from the night breeze.
The birth certificate is smudged but legible.
Everything checks out: Sarah Mitchell's name, the hospital, the date.
My alleged brother shifts beside me, his phone light now illuminating my face instead of the drain.
I study his features more carefully.
He has the same green eyes as me, a similar nose, and an unmistakable family resemblance.
He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a worn envelope.
"Recent photos of Sarah," he says quietly.
I take the envelope, feeling the weight of a truth I can no longer deny.