They Valued a Guinea Pig More Than Me, So I Left Chapter 10
I liked my life in the little courtyard.
The tomatoes were fruiting again. The greens kept coming.
I dug another flower bed and moved the roses right under the landlady’s window.
She said I was meddling. The next day, she dragged a wicker chair out and sat next to them while
she snapped green beans.
I wrote about her on my blog. The birthday soup. The light left on for me in the yard, The way her
eyes got red when she called me wasteful.
That post broke every record.
The top comment said, “I never realized home isn’t where you’re born. It’s where love stays.”
The day I hit fifty million followers, I got invited to an awards ceremony.
The platform was giving me the gold medal for Most Influential Blogger of the Year.
The spotlight hit center stage. I walked out in the dress I’d bought myself. The applause was like
thunder.
The host smiled and asked, “Elara, is your family here today?”
I said, “Yes.”
A few people in the front row shifted.
I saw them. My dad, my mom, Derek, Ethan, Aria. Sitting up close. A flicker of expectation on their
faces.
They looked at each other. Like they were getting ready for a happy ending. A story everyone could
screenshot.
The host said, “Please invite them up.”
I thought about all those years ago. Standing in the audience, waiting for them to call my name. Watching them walk past me one by one, picking up cats and dogs and each other. No one looking
my way.
I turned my head toward the back corner.
The landlady sat there in the dark red sweater I’d bought her, surrounded by strangers.
I walked off the stage and took her hand.
She muttered, “What’d you drag me up here for? I can’t talk to people.”
I led her into the light. The host paused. “And this is?”
I lifted the microphone.
“This is the family I chose. No blood. But plenty of warmth.”
The room went silent for one second. Then the applause came-louder than before.
I looked sideways. The old woman was trying to hide her face behind my shoulder, her ears bright
red.
But her hand was squeezing mine. Tight.
And right then, I finally understood.
Home isn’t where you came from.
It’s where the love stays.
