24 years ago, a baby’s heart wrenching cries could be heard at the doorstep of an orphanage when most people had turned in for the night.

The orphanage was in a quieter and less clustered neighbourhood whereby the number of orphans residing in it could be counted on one hand.

Alarmed, the caretaker left the bedroom of kids after putting the last one to bed and trotted to the front door. Unlocking the door and peering out, the sight in front of her made her yank the door open with a gasp.

She picked the box that held the crying baby in, scanning the front yard without spotting a single soul. With one last glance, she stepped back and locked the door.

Placing the basket down and picking the baby up gently, she cooed and attempted to sooth the baby. 

A minute later, the baby’s whimpers trailed, slowly falling asleep from fatigue. After giving the baby a few more pats, the caretaker gently shifted and cradled the baby, taking a better look.

A girl.

Pink mittens, pink long sleeved bodysuit, blue crotchet.

The baby twitched a little, her tiny leg giving a slight kick. The caretaker smiled at the adorable sight. Her heart tightened at the thought of another kid being abandoned, losing the chance of growing up in a proper family.

Her eyes shifted to pieces of paper in the box where the baby previously laid. Maintaining her stable grasp of the baby in one arm, she picked up the first piece paper with her free hand.

It was a diagnosis. Xeroderma pigmentosum.

She had never heard of these words before but she continued to scan the words.

Avoid exposure to sunlight… covered clothes…  

No definite form of treatment..

She frowned. Maybe she should take a trip down to the hospital to find out more tomorrow.

Picking up the second piece of paper, she stared at the messily written note.

We cannot have her in our family. Take care of her.

She hugged the baby closer to herself, different emotions running through her.

Her gaze shifted to the last piece of paper on the ground. A birth certificate. Even though the parents’ names were striked off and removed completely, the attempt to do it to the baby’s surname wasn’t as successful.

What a beautiful name, she thought.

Kim Taeyeon.

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It was definitely not easy dealing with such a rare disease, but as years go by, things started to be put in place.

Growing up with other kids who are older and younger than her, Taeyeon did not understand why her caretaker, Mother Mi Ran never lets her leave her room in the day.

The other kids slept together in the same room, whereas Taeyeon had a room to herself, with the windows sealed tight with tape and curtains that block out any traces of sunlight. She was only let out of the room when Mi Ran announced that the sun had gone down and that she can come out now.

The initial stages were hard on Mi Ran. How could she explain to a toddler full of curiosity and beginning to speak and learn about the world, that she couldn’t go out under the sun like normal kids?

“Why can’t I play outdoors? I want to play with the kids too! Let me go out!” Little Taeyeon sobbed pitifully, her tiny hands covering her watery eyes.

Mi Ran swallowed the lump in , enveloping the tiny child into her arms. She wiped the stream of tears that seem to never stop flowing down the little girl’s cheeks.

“Taeyeon ah, you can’t. You’re sick, you will get worse if you go out. I’ll play with you here hmm?”

“Then I don’t want to be sick!”

She was too young to understand that sometimes life doesn’t give you a choice.

When she left her room every night to join the rest in the shared spaces, none of the kids her age or younger than her want to sit next to her.

Her attempts to interact with them died down after being ignored all the time, being called a ‘freak’ a couple of times.

The oldest kid, Bo-ah, who was in high school would lecture them about being nice, but kids their age have their own way of thinking. What they see every day was what they believe in, with their immature minds. A girl who only leaves her room at night and did not attend pre-school or elementary school like them – to them, there must be something wrong and different about her.

They also hated the fact that Mother Mi Ran would let Taeyeon play in the yard at night under her supervision, whereas the rest of them were forbidden from leaving the home at night.

At the age of 5, Taeyeon understood that she was indeed different and that nobody likes her. She’s a freak, maybe that’s why her parents dumped her here.

The only people she interacted with were Mother Mi Ran and Bo-ah unnie.

She was home-schooled by Mother Mi Ran, and as time goes by, she got used to her lifestyle, living in her own closed shell.

When Bo-ah reached the age of 21, she left the orphanage. It was a tearful goodbye, but as months passed, there was no more contact from Soojin who initially still visited them at the beginning.

Taeyeon learnt an important lesson from then on.

She had no real family and she would eventually be alone. 

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Things changed a little as the kids grew up over the years and the orphanage took in its last orphan.

At the age of 10, she made her first friend.

The sounds of chatters died down into whispers as Taeyeon exited the room, taking her seat at the dining table. The rest of the kids had finished their dinner, leaving their plates in the sink and leaving the kitchen one by one, into the living room.

She felt a stare beside her but picked up her fork and spoon, pushing the beans ar