**Ten Years Ago**

When I was 14, I discovered that I was adopted. It was a shock that turned my world upside down. The realization that the people I had called my parents weren't my biological family filled me with confusion and anger. It felt like my entire life had been a lie.

I remembered the day vividly. I had been snooping around in my parents' room, looking for some cash to buy a new video game. Instead, I found a set of documents hidden in a drawer. My birth certificate, with a different surname and adoption papers. I could still recall the surge of emotions that hit me: disbelief, betrayal, and a deep sense of abandonment.

I confronted my parents that evening, the documents clutched in my trembling hands.

"Why didn't you tell me?" I demanded, tears streaming down my face.

My mother, always the calm one, looked stricken. My father, usually so composed, seemed lost for words.

"We were going to tell you," my mother said softly, "but we didn't know when the right time was."

"There never would have been a right time," I shot back, my voice shaking with anger. "How could you keep something like this from me?"

They tried to explain, to soothe my hurt, but nothing they said could mend the rift that had opened in my heart. From that moment, a part of me felt like I didn't belong, like I was an outsider in my own family.

That revelation was the catalyst for my rebellious phase. I started acting out, staying out late, and hanging with the wrong crowd. My grades slipped, and I pushed my parents away, refusing to listen to their pleas. It was during this tumultuous period that I got involved in the world of cons and deceit, a path that would shape my life in ways I couldn't have imagined.

Looking back now, I realized that discovery was the beginning of my descent into the life I led today. It was the reason I found it so hard to trust people, the reason I had built up walls around myself. And it was why, despite everything, I felt a strange connection to Rain. She, too, had her world torn apart, and maybe, just maybe, helping her would help me find a way back to who I once was.

I left home hoping to find my real parents, but it was a wrong move. When I finally found them, my real father was an alcoholic and my mother was a gambling addict. After a few months, my father died, and my mother was buried in debt due to the memorial services and her gambling habit. She was arrested because she couldn't pay a large amount of money.

One evening, I was at home, preparing to leave, when a group of men entered our house. My mom, desperate and owing millions, handed me over to a gang she was in debt to.

"Mom, what are you doing?" I asked, panic rising in my chest.

"I'm so sorry, Yuan," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't have any other choice."

"No! You can't do this!" I screamed, but the men grabbed me, and I was taken away.

From that day on, I was forced into a life I never imagined. They trained me to be a pickpocket and taught me how to hypnotize people. I became one of their top agents, always bringing home large stashes of money. Despite my efforts, the debt was insurmountable, and I couldn't see a way out.

"You're doing great, Yuan," one of the gang leaders said, counting the money I brought in. "Keep it up, and you might just pay off your mother's debt someday."

"But it's never enough, is it?" I muttered, feeling the weight of the chains that kept me bound to this dark world.

I stayed with the gang for almost 10 years. My mom eventually got out of jail, but I was trapped in this life, conditioned to live by deceit and manipulation. As I grew up doing it, leaving seemed impossible. The skills I had acquired, though useful, were chains that kept me bound.

Despite everything, I always hoped for a way out, a chance to start anew. Meeting Rain and seeing her struggle made me question my own life choices and what I truly wanted. For the first time, I considered the possibility of breaking free, not just for her sake, but for mine as well.

One evening, I sat down with Venom, the weight of my dilemma pressing heavily on my shoulders.

"Venom," I began, my voice shaky, "should I leave Rain without telling her the truth, or should I come clean?"

Venom looked at me, puzzled. "Yuan, why do you care so much? You've never been this concerned about anyone before."

"I don't know," I admitted, running a hand through my hair. "There's something about her. I feel like I owe her the truth, but I'm terrified of what will happen if I tell her."

Venom sighed, leaning back in her chair. "It's a tough call. If you tell her, you risk her hating you. But if you leave without saying anything, she'll never know why you disappeared. She deserves to know the truth, especially if you've started to care for her."

I nodded, the conflict within me growing stronger. "I just don't want to hurt her more than she already is."

Venom reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. "Whatever you decide, I'll support you. But remember, being honest might be the first step towards breaking free from all this. For both of you."

Her words lingered in my mind, adding another layer of complexity to my already tangled emotions. The decision was mine to make, but knowing Venom was there for me gave me a glimmer of hope.

The next days were okay. I hung out with Rain at their house, as usual, watching her read books in front of me. I even taught her how to play chess.

One afternoon, while she was focused on a book, I started observing the pictures around the house. One particular photo caught my eye: it was of Rain and another girl.

Rain noticed me staring at the picture and spoke up. "That was my old best friend," she said softly. "She died a few years ago."

I turned to her, surprised. "I'm sorry to hear that. What happened?"

Rain's expression grew pained. "She had a terminal illness. She never told me. She lied about being fine about getting better. And then... she just died. I loved her, but I also hate her for lying to me."

Her words hit me hard. "I hate liars," she continued, her voice trembling. "They took away my chance to say goodbye."

I felt a chill run down my spine. Her story mirrored my own deception. I was lying to her every day, pretending to be someone I wasn't. The weight of my secret felt unbearable.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing. How could I continue lying to her, knowing how much she despised deceit? This revelation made my decision even more difficult.

But for now, I had to push those thoughts aside. I focused on the game of chess in front of us, trying to hide the turmoil inside me.

After talking about her old friend, Rain suddenly asked me why I was different from other psychologists she had encountered.

I paused, considering my response carefully. "Maybe because I believe you don't need just a psychologist," I replied gently. "You need a friend you can open up to freely."

Her expression softened, and she nodded thoughtfully. "I like that," she said with a small smile. "Thank you."

Then, unexpectedly, she turned the conversation towards me. "What about you?" she asked. "I want to know about you. About your family."

I chuckled nervously, trying to deflect. "Oh, come on, Rain. You're the patient here, not me," I teased lightly.

She persisted, her curiosity evident. "Seriously," she said earnestly, "I want to know. It's only fair."

I hesitated, unsure how much I could reveal without betraying the trust I had worked so hard to build. But looking into her eyes, filled with genuine interest and warmth, I found myself wanting to share.

I took a deep breath, deciding to share a carefully curated version of my story with Rain. "I was adopted," I began, my voice steady. "I left my adoptive parents some time ago."

Rain listened intently, her gaze unwavering.

"I actually lived with my biological parents for a few years," I continued, choosing my words with caution. "But they're no longer alive."

I felt a pang of guilt for lying, but I pressed on. "I often wonder if my adoptive parents miss me," I admitted, trying to keep my tone neutral. "But I've been hesitant to go back. I guess I feel like I let them down by leaving."

Rain's expression softened, and she reached out to place a comforting hand on mine. "I'm sorry," she said softly. "It sounds like you've been through a lot."

I nodded gratefully, touched by her empathy. Despite the facade I maintained, a part of me yearned to be truthful with her, to share the weight of my secrets. But for now, I buried those thoughts, focusing instead on the connection we were forging in that moment.

"But I think you should reach them out before it's too late." she added while staring at her parents' photo

Rain's words struck a chord within me. Her suggestion to reach out to my adoptive parents stirred conflicting emotions. On one hand, it felt like an opportunity for closure, a chance to mend past regrets. On the other hand, I feared the repercussions of revealing my true identity to them, knowing the life I had led since leaving their home.

"I've thought about it," I admitted, meeting Rain's gaze earnestly. "But I'm not sure if they'd want to hear from me after all this time."

She considered my words thoughtfully before responding. "You won't know until you try," she said gently. "They might surprise you."

Her sincerity touched me deeply. Despite the deception between us, Rain's belief in reconciliation and forgiveness resonated with me. It made me wonder if perhaps honesty could pave the way for a different future-one where I didn't have to live a lie.

"Maybe you're right," I murmured, a glimmer of hope flickering within me. Deep down, I knew that facing my past was a step I needed to take, for my own peace of mind and for the chance to truly connect with Rain, who had unknowingly become an anchor in my tumultuous life.

Secretary Jane's unexpected call left me bewildered, especially when I saw her accompanied by the trainee police officer I had encountered earlier. Their presence at the mansion heightened my unease.

"What is it, Ms. Jane?" I asked, trying to maintain composure.

Ms. Jane hesitated, then inquired directly, "Is Rain ready for an investigation?"

I glanced at Rain, considering her emotional state. "She's okay when she's talking to me," I replied cautiously, "but it's best to ask her directly."

Rain nodded, her expression determined yet vulnerable. "I'll do it on one condition," she interjected firmly. "Yuan stays by my side."

Ms. Jane turned to me, her gaze searching. I hesitated, torn between my commitment to rain and the risks of staying involved. "I think it's best if I step back," I suggested reluctantly. "If Rain wants me there, I can watch from a distance, but not sit beside her."

I noticed Rain's disappointment, which pierced me more deeply than I expected. Yet, despite her initial reaction, she eventually agreed to proceed under those terms.

While the investigation was underway, I couldn't help but notice a troubling change in Rain's demeanour. The confident, engaging person I had come to know seemed to recede, replaced by a distant and withdrawn version of herself.

She sat quietly, barely responding to questions. It was as if she had retreated into herself, leaving behind only the shell of the person she had been moments before. Time stretched on, and despite occasional murmurs of acknowledgement, Rain remained largely unresponsive. Even basic questions, like confirming her name, were met with delayed and minimal answers.

As I watched from a distance, my concern for Rain grew. The investigation seemed to have triggered a regression, pulling her back into a state of emotional withdrawal that I hadn't seen since our initial meetings. It was a stark reminder of the fragility of her emotional state, and I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, I was failing her by not being closer, by not doing more to support her through this difficult process.

after a few seconds, I decided to step up and ask them to stop the questioning already. The trainee police officer and the other investors agreed

"Are you okay?" I asked gently, my concern deepening as Rain leaned into my shoulder.

"I don't know what happened," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

I wrapped an arm around her, offering what little comfort I could. "It's okay not to know right now," I reassured her softly.

"If I had woken up earlier that day, maybe I would have known," Rain murmured, her words laden with a mix of sorrow and confusion. "And if I had been with them..."

Her sentence trailed off, leaving an unspoken fear hanging in the air. I felt a pang of sadness for her pain and an ache of guilt for the secrets I still harboured.

"If you want to talk about it, I'm here," I offered quietly, hoping to provide some solace in her moment of vulnerability.

Rain nodded faintly, her grip tightening slightly around my waist. We sat in silence, the weight of her words lingering between us, as she sought solace in my presence, and I grappled with the knowledge of what I had kept from her.