Chapter 3

When I got back, I went to see Gran first.

I walked in on her mid-phone call. The old red telephone — the one that only rang on holidays — was pressed to her ear, and she was speaking in a low, hurried voice.

The line had a faint crackle, as if the distance itself was straining against the connection.

"I've told you so many times — don't let Stella come looking for you!"

"I worked so hard to get rid of that burden. What do you think you're doing?"

"I told you to get rid of her back then. You wouldn't listen. Now look at the mess. If she ruins what I've built here, so help me—"

Gran's eyes darted to me. She turned away and murmured something into the receiver, then hung up quickly.

"Stella, love. Your mum didn't mean it like that."

I gave her the best smile I had. "It's alright, Gran. Sorry I didn't bring anything back."

She opened her mouth, closed it, and eventually shuffled off to the kitchen, returning with a pot of tea and a plate of digestive biscuits — my childhood comfort, the same as always.

"Eat up. Then you get yourself back to university."

I nodded. And then, quietly, I went to my old room and pulled out everything my mother had ever sent.

Every gift. Every package.

Gran had always said she'd saved up to buy them herself — scrimping and sacrificing. But now I looked at them with different eyes.

The reading pen had a name engraved on it. Sofia. Not a brand. A name.

The floral dress I'd treasured for years, never worn because I was afraid of ruining it — the size tag was two sizes too large for me.

The ice skates everyone at school had been so envious of were half a size too small. As a kid, I'd forced my feet into them anyway, too proud to admit they didn't fit.

I'd spent years treasuring these things, believing they were proof that she was thinking of me.

She'd been sending me Sofia's castoffs. Every single one.

I was no more than a charity bin for things her real daughter no longer wanted.

I packed everything into a bag and walked it to the dustbin outside.

Standing in the cold, I looked up at the moon.

It's the same moon she can see from across the ocean, I thought. And I felt nothing.

From today, I wasn't wishing on her anymore.

I was going to be my own wishing star.