Chapter 5
1075 Words
The eleven-hour flight home passed in a blur. Katherine barely noticed the dimmed cabin lights or the sleeping passengers around her. She spent the entire journey staring at a single chat window on her phone, the empty text box blinking like a judgment.
She had typed and deleted dozens of messages.
Hello, Jojo. I’m the girl who promised to come back for you…
Delete.
Hi. Do you still remember me?
Delete.
I’m Katherine Hart…
Delete.
That name felt like a lie. Jojo wouldn’t know Katherine Hart. She only knew Kiki.
With a deep breath, Katherine finally typed two simple words.
Jojo?
Her thumb hovered over the send button for what felt like forever. What if Joanna didn’t remember? What if she did? She pressed send.
The reply came faster than she expected. Three little dots appeared, then:
...Who’s this?
Katherine’s fingers tightened around the phone. It’s Kiki.
The response exploded across the screen.
KIKI?!
The Kiki from St. Anne’s Orphanage?
Oh my God… is it really you?
A lump rose in Katherine’s throat. She could almost hear Joanna’s bright, excited voice through the messages.
It’s really me.
Before she could say more, another message popped up.
Where have you been? I’ve looked for you online so many times! I thought you’d forgotten me!
Katherine closed her eyes. She had forgotten. Not on purpose, but life had swept her away—new family, schools, university, Soron—until those orphanage days felt like someone else’s distant dream.
I’m sorry.
The pause that followed stretched painfully long.
Then:
Forget that. You’re back now!
Are you in the country?
Can we meet?
Katherine stared at the words until her vision blurred. After thirteen years of silence, Joanna wasn’t angry. She wasn’t bitter. She was simply, genuinely happy.
Katherine's flight landed, She didn't tell anyone that she was back becasue she couldn't face her parents anymore. She didn’t call Amelia or Richard. She changed her flight and slipped back into the city quietly, avoiding the waiting chauffeur. She wasn’t ready to face the mansion yet.
There was something far more important she had to do first.
The café Joanna chose was tucked away on a quiet side street. It wasn’t the kind of polished place Katherine had frequented in her life. The wooden tables were old but lovingly polished, and the rich scent of fresh coffee beans filled the warm afternoon air. Students worked on laptops while soft music played in the background.
Katherine arrived twenty minutes early. She told herself she wasn’t nervous, but every time the bell above the door chimed, her heart jumped.
Finally, the door swung open. A young woman hurried in wearing a simple café apron over everyday clothes, her hair pulled into a quick ponytail. She scanned the room, and when her eyes landed on Katherine, confusion flashed across her face for half a second.
Then pure recognition lit her up.
“Kiki?” Joanna rushed forward before Katherine could even stand. She threw her arms around her in a tight, breathless hug.
“I can’t believe it’s really you,” Joanna whispered, voice warm with joy. “I’ve missed you so much.”
Katherine stood frozen for a moment, guilt twisting like a knife in her chest. Slowly, almost awkwardly, she wrapped her arms around the girl she had once promised to save.
They sat down, and Joanna smiled sheepishly, still a little out of breath. “I’m sorry I’m late. My manager wouldn’t let me leave until someone covered my shift. I was worried you’d be waiting forever.”
“It’s alright,” Katherine managed.
Joanna laughed lightly. “I work here in the mornings before classes. I’m studying business administration at the community college nearby.” She shrugged with an easy grin. “Well… trying to, anyway. Two jobs make homework interesting.”
She said it casually, without a trace of self-pity. Just simple acceptance and quiet optimism. Throughout the afternoon, Joanna carried the conversation effortlessly, filling every silence with warm stories—favorite professors, funny customers, an elderly regular who came every Thursday, and the stray cat she’d been feeding behind the café for nearly a year. She laughed often and smiled even more.
The more Katherine listened, the heavier her guilt grew.
She thought of her own life—expensive boarding schools, luxury vacations, birthday parties filled with important guests, a wardrobe that cost more than most people’s yearly rent. Meanwhile, Joanna spoke of saving for textbooks, taking extra shifts, and sharing a tiny apartment with roommates… yet she seemed genuinely content. Happier, even, than Katherine had ever felt in her gilded cage.
After a long pause, Katherine asked softly, “Did anyone ever… adopt you?”
Joanna’s smile softened, but it didn’t fade. “I hoped someone would for a long time.” She stirred her coffee gently. “But after a while, you stop waiting.” She glanced out the window, then smiled again. “The director used to say my parents were probably still looking for me. I believed him for years.” Joanna swallowed a lump in her throat. "I was the one of the last few children left before they shut down the orphanage." she pursed her lips.
“And now?”
Joanna gave a small shrug. “I think some people just aren’t meant to find each other.” She said it without resentment, only quiet acceptance.
The words cut deeper than any accusation ever could. Katherine lowered her eyes, throat tight with unshed tears.
As the afternoon light began to fade, Joanna reluctantly stood. “I should go. I have another shift tonight.”
They embraced outside the café. As Joanna stepped back, a single strand of her hair caught on the button of Katherine’s coat. Neither of them noticed. "Keep in touch okay? " She said as if Kiki was someone really dear to her and not someoen hwo had forgotten her almost imeedietly after she had left for a better life.
Joanna waved brightly one last time before disappearing into the evening crowd.
Katherine remained rooted to the spot. Slowly, she reached up and carefully plucked the strand from her sleeve. She stared at it for a long moment, then closed her fingers around it.
If she was going to return Joanna to the family that had always been hers, she would need proof, Just to confirm that it really never belonged to her.
This was the first step.’
- Writer
