Chapter 2 The Day I Left Heaven

LEITANA

I knelt before the small altar, fingers digging into each other till they hurt.

“Papa God,” I whispered, “what You want me to do?”

The Virgin Mary’s painted eyes watched me, calm and patient, while my chest felt like it go break apart.

“They came for me,” I breathed. “Say they my parents… my real parents. I no sure if I should go.”

The air was still. Then came that familiar warmth, deep inside me, a whisper that wasn’t sound at all.

“Leitana.”

My breath caught.

“You have always been mine. Whether you walk these halls or across the world, I am with you.”

Tears run down my face. “So… mi must go, ya?”

“Go and see what I have for you,” the whisper said. “Do not be afraid.”

“Olsem yu talem, Papa God.” (As You say, Father God.)

I stood. My answer had come.

The afternoon sun burned over the orphanage yard.

The car waited at the gate.

My girls, my sisters, crowded around me, sobbing.

Rosie wept. “Ne pars pas, Lei… S’il te plaît… ne pars pas.”

(Don’t leave me, Lei… Please… don’t leave.)

I hugged her tight. “Mi mas go,” I whispered. (I must go.)

Marita’s voice trembled. “Yu mas go luktaem wol, sista. Olgeta samting i no finis yet.”

(You must go see the world, sister. Everything is not over yet.)

Her words lodged deep inside me, a seed I didn’t understand yet.

Then, as I turned toward the waiting car, she leaned close and whispered,

“Yu no talem se yu stap dae. Yu mas go enjoy laef bifo Masta i tekem woman blong hem.”

(Don’t tell them you’re dying. Go enjoy life before the Lord takes His bride.)

“Mi no save giaman, hem i sin.” (I cannot lie, it’s a sin.)

My own tears slipped free. I had long since made peace with my affliction; suffering, after all, was part of our calling. It built endurance. It shaped the soul. But the heaviness in my chest wasn’t only from illness. It was something deeper, a pull I couldn’t quite name.

Then, unexpectedly, she leaned in and kissed the corner of my lips, a small smirk curling at hers before she stepped back.

The world blurred as I stepped through the gate, my heart split between heaven and home.

America was strange.

Even before the car door closed, I couldn’t stop staring.

So many lights. So many people. Everything moved fast, like time itself was chasing them. I felt small, like the world had swallowed me whole.

My pulse raced. My hands trembled. I touched the smooth leather seat and felt… different, as if I were being carried out of my old life and into something I wasn’t ready to recognize

My Mother smiled softly beside me. “This is New York, Leitana. Our home.”

Our home.

The words felt heavy. I pressed my hand to the glass as buildings scraped the clouds.

When we stopped in front of a tower of white stone and gold doors, she said, “Welcome to your new life.”

Inside, everything gleamed, mirrors, marble, maids. I barely had time to breathe before she tugged me up a spiraling staircase. I followed, my feet hesitant. The world I had known, the dusty roads, the chapel, the girls I loved felt like a memory fading fast.

The air smelled like flowers that had never seen soil.

“We need to get you out of that dreadful dress,” she said.

I looked down at my blue orphanage dress, the scarf Mother Superior had tied that morning. “Dis one… wah wrong wit’ it?”

She didn’t answer.

Doors swung open. Hands grabbed me. My scarf vanished. Buttons came undone.My pulse thundered. My breath caught.

“Mama, plis…” I whispered, but my voice drowned in the rush of orders.

“Undress her. Quickly.”

I gasped, covering myself. Shame burned my skin. “Stop!”

“Dear God,” my mother muttered, “look at her. Get rid of that ridiculous bush. I will not have her looking savage.”

Savage.

The word stabbed deeper than the razors that followed. Water poured, steam rose, hands scrubbed, cut, trimmed, the water scalding my skin.

When they were done, I sat before a gold mirror. A stranger stared back at me, smooth, polished, silent.

Behind her reflection stood my mother. Watching.

“Perfect,” she said.

But my heart whispered, Where is she?

The twin they spoke of. The sister I had never met.

If this was home… Why wasn’t she here?

The maids stepped away, and I stared at my reflection one last time.

The girl who left the orphanage was gone.

And in her place sat someone who would soon learn that this “home” was anything but holy.