The Triangle of Love

The heavenly silence of the early morning was cut short by the blaring sound of the alarm. Exhausted, I couldn't move an inch of my body. I stretched my hand to get my phone that was under the pillow on my right side. Still battling with sleep, I managed to check the time, and it was midnight.

I found myself lying down, my face forced into the pillow, I cursed silently. Why on earth did I just wake up so early? What is wrong with me? this insomnia seemed determined to deny me of excellent sleep every single night.

I thought and hoped today would be different, I took sedatives and tried to eat light, so I could have a good night's sleep as prescribed by Emily. Here I am fully awake.

Perhaps I should indulge myself in self-pleasure. So I could return to sleep. I put my hands into my pants as I searched for my clit to rub vigorously so I could have an orgasm that would lead me back to sleep. My vagina is very dry, and the friction started hurting me. And the sensation was not pleasing.

Well, seems the insomnia has won this battle again. I sighed. The sudden realization that today was my birthday and the alarm was not my wake-up alarm, but rather an indication that I was born this very day as I turned to look up at the ceiling.

The beam of light rays reflected on my chandelier that was situated at the center of my ceiling as I gave a focused stare at my ceiling.

“Damn, today is my birthday?” I mumbled.

A bit of surprise flooded through me as I thought about the importance of the day to me, but as I compared it to my previous birthday out at the orphanage home, there was no utter difference between my birthday and normal days of the week and months.

At this point sadness began to mix up with the little happiness I was experiencing, I had no bloodline family to celebrate this day with me, or a boy special in my life who made me worth looking ahead to the birthday.

Just my foster parents and my foster sibling who wants to fuck me.

As the alarm went off again, this time around I looked at it and smiled, and I said, “At least you remember today is my birthday”. I let it blare for a while, soaking the atmosphere and giving me the relief that today is special to me in a kind of way.

After turning off the alarm, I tucked my phone under my pillow, pondering the conflicting emotions stirred by my unknown parentage and the uncertainty surrounding my birthdate determined by the orphanage.

Questions flooded my mind, fueling the familiar anxiety that often accompanied reflections on my past. Yet, despite the absence of answers, I resolved not to let sadness overshadow my birthday; this year would be different.

Sleep started to creep in a little, and I was lost in thought, maybe sleep.

“Happy birthday!” The sudden blare of music interrupted my thoughts. That jolted me immediately.

Turning from the bed, after a sleepless night spent contemplating my life, I was greeted by my foster mom's warm embrace.

“Oh, my baby girl,” she exclaimed with a radiant smile.

After a sleepless night I spent contemplating my life, my foster mom gave me a warm smile that lit my day up,

“Oh baby girl,” she said as she hugged me deeply, her chin resting on my shoulder, and she whispered

“Come on, today is your day. You're 23 years old, baby girl,” she said, gently patting my back.

“Mom,” I began, the weariness evident in my voice, “I am tired, I didn't sleep well last night”

“Huh!” she exclaimed in surprise.

“Well, that's on you, baby girl. Come and eat your cake.”

As I stretched my arms, Jack interrupted me with a slight nudge on my head

“Happy birthday sis”. The awkwardness was bewildering, but the pretense was perfect.

Our eyes had a gentle meeting, and immediately we stopped looking at each other.

“Jack, thank you so much,” I replied,

“Mom please can you stop the music, it is hurting my head”

As Mrs. Rosa stood up from the bed, to get the cake, and stopped the music I lay back on the bed trying to catch a glimpse of sleep.

“All alright that is enough sleep for you tiger”? Mrs. Rosa said as she cut a piece of cake and brought it gently holding it with both hands.

She stretched out the cake delightfully, the cake looked attractive, but I wasn't desiring some cake.

“Mom, can I pass?”

“no, you won't pass”. Mrs. Rosa replied, “It is a family tradition that the celebrant tastes the cake early hours of the morning”.

“hmm mm”.

Of course, it is a traditional approach that the Rosa's have kept for a long time, I was part of the family for almost six years and I have never missed the first cake oath.

But this time around I wanted to be alone, I felt I was not wanted here again. I would rather not narrow it to my late-night discussion with Jack.

Of course, I have been feeling withdrawn lately from Rosa's, I would like to find my real parents. I think I am old enough to get an answer of who I am, and where I come from.

I took a piece of the cake, and savored its delicious flavor, my eyes lighting up with delight. “I know you like it,” Mrs. Rosa remarked, watching me indulge.

“You can stop now, sweetie. We have more to do for you, and I don't want you to fill up too soon,” she gently urged, taking the cake away.

As Mr. Rosa nudged Jack, the two of them left my room. I couldn't help but admire Mrs. Rosa's calm and welcoming demeanor towards me, contrasting with the awkward silence between Jack and me.

Yesterday, on my way from work, I asked Jack to pick me up when he finished with the client at the restaurant. On our way back, he confessed his love for me.

He had been harboring it for a while, and he couldn't help, but reach out to me, and he wanted to have sex with me.

Despite not being blood-related, the idea of a romantic relationship between us, foster siblings, felt unsettling. It became clear that his care and affection stemmed from ulterior motives, shattering my perception of him.

Today, on my birthday, instead of his usual enthusiasm, Jack appeared distant. Standing up from my bed, I straightened my arms and adjusted my pants, gazing into the mirror to admire my grown appearance.

I then checked my schedule in my diary, marking off my goals for the day. Retrieving my phone from under the pillow, I called Emily.

“Happy birthday!” Emily's joyful voice greeted me.

“Thank you, Emily,” I replied, juggling the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued marking my goals.

“So, where are we going?” Emily inquired.

“I'm not sure. I haven't decided on a place,” I admitted.

“We could go clubbing tonight,” she suggested.

“I don't know if my schedule allows it,” I responded, feeling uncertain.

“Sandra, why do you always prioritize work?” Emily's frustration was palpable in her tone.

“It's the only way to get by, baby girl,” I explained, focusing on my diary.

“So there’s this new club I want us to go to. Emily said.

“What about it”? I asked

“The owner is known as Alex, heard he is a handsome and rich man, so there will be numerous wealthy men out there to pick from”. Emily said.

“Are you pimping me?”. I said restfully

“Of course I am”. Emily replied sarcastically, “You haven't had good sex in a long time, I want you to get Fucked dutifully, consider it my birthday gift”. Emily added

“hahaha”

“True you need it, baby girl”

“Alright I will consider the idea”

“Hopefully, I'll have some leisure time. I already had cake this morning,” I added.

“Wow, who made it for you?” Emily asked.

“Mrs. Rosa,” I replied.

“Lucky you. She cares about you,” Emily remarked before saying goodbye.

With my diary goals checked off, I returned it to its place on my shelf, where I kept my favorite books, each one a cherished gift from the family of Rosa over the years. They symbolized the gratitude I felt for the life they'd given me outside the orphanage.

Despite twelve years passing since leaving the orphanage, recurring dreams plagued me, their meaning elusive. Planning to join my foster family for breakfast, I freshened up in the bathroom, brushing away any signs of sleep.

In my thick socks, flannel pants, and sweatshirts, I was prepared to go for breakfast. I looked at my messy bed, hesitant to make it, I said to myself, "Why make it, just to mess it up again?”.

I stepped out of the bathroom, went straight to the table, took my phone, and headed out of my room.

As I opened the door, I overheard a commotion coming from Mr. and Mrs. Rosa's room. It was loud, and the noise was penetrating the walls of the room down to the hallway, and the vibration shook the hinges of the door.

“I hate what you're doing, Edwin!” Mrs. Rosa's voice, laden with tears, echoed through the hallway as she emerged from the room.

Startled, I stepped back, trying to remain unnoticed. “What are you doing here?” she asked, her voice strained with emotion.