The sandwich was warm and inviting, but the red chili sauce spread thickly in the middle was anything but. Maddie wrinkled her nose, the pungent aroma making her eyes water.
“Why is there so much chili sauce in my sandwich?” she exclaimed, setting the offending meal back on the plate.
Jane glanced up from her cup of coffee, looking puzzled. “Wait, chili sauce? That can’t be right. I made the sandwiches with ketchup!”
“You sure about that?” Maddie asked, her tone sharp, eyebrows raised. “Because this looks—and smells—like chili sauce.”
Jane scratched the back of her head, a sheepish smile spreading across her face. “Maybe I mixed them up? I swear it looked like ketchup.”
Jane, standing awkwardly by the counter, let out a nervous laugh. “Oh, I’m always so scatterbrained in the kitchen. No harm done, right?” She turned toward Maddie, attempting a playful smile.
Maddie wasn’t amused. Her lips curled into a tight smile, masking her irritation. “No harm? Jane, even if you can’t cook, surely you can tell the difference between chili peppers and tomatoes. I mean, the bottles are labeled. Or don’t you bother reading?”
Jane’s face flushed red, her embarrassment evident. “I—I didn’t see any labels! Both bottles looked exactly the same and they didn’t have any packaging. How was I supposed to know?”
Maddie shot to her feet, leaving the table as Rico frowned. “Come on, Jane, Maddie didn’t mean it like that. It was just a mistake,” he said, trying to smooth things over.
“Mistake or not, I’m checking,” Maddie muttered, storming into the kitchen.
Sure enough, two nearly identical bottles of red sauce sat on the spice rack. Their labels had been ripped off, leaving no clear indication of what was inside.
“When did this happen?” Maddie murmured under her breath. “Yesterday, the ketchup bottle still had its label…”
Rico followed her into the kitchen and picked up one of the bottles. After inspecting it, he chuckled softly and reached out to ruffle Jane’s hair. “Don’t be so hard on yourself, Jane. Without the labels, I can’t tell the difference either.”
Maddie crossed her arms, glaring at them both. “So why is it that your sandwiches don’t have any chili sauce and mine is practically drowning in it?”
Rico looked taken aback. “Hey, there’s no need to be aggressive. Jane even asked me what you like and I told her you love ketchup. She just tried to make it special for you. We don’t care for ketchup, so we skipped it.”
Maddie clenched her fists at her sides, biting back a retort. She knew Rico was too enamored with Jane to see through her clumsy excuses. It didn’t matter anymore—none of it did. After all, she had already made up her mind.
***
The day after Rico and Jane left for their trip, Maddie packed her things and went back to where it all began: the orphanage. She carried a bag full of gifts for the children, hoping to leave a part of herself behind in the only place that had ever truly felt like home.
“Maddie!” Mrs. Walker, the headmistress, called out, rushing to embrace her. “Oh, it’s so good to see you again! But where’s Rico? Didn’t he come with you?”
Maddie offered a small smile. “He’s been busy. Didn’t have time to visit.”
Mrs. Walker sighed, her expression turning wistful. “Busy with that actress he’s dating, huh? I saw the news. Such a shame. I always thought the two of you would end up together.”
Laughing softly, Maddie shook her head. “There’s no shame in it, Mrs. Walker. Rico’s always seen me as a little sister. Now he has his own life and I have mine.”
“But he took care of you for so long. When he finally had enough to support himself, he brought you home. That boy has always put you first.”
Maddie’s voice softened. “That was a long time ago. Things change. We’ve both moved on.”
Mrs. Walker nodded, but her expression brightened. “Your mom donated another two million dollars to the orphanage last week. She said it was in your name! You’re so lucky to have found your family after all these years.”
“Yeah,” Maddie murmured, a bittersweet smile on her face. “It’s about time I went back to them.”
***
Back at Rico’s house—soon to be just his house—Maddie began packing up the remnants of her life. Every day, she dragged bags of her belongings down to the trash. With each trip, she discarded more than just clothes and trinkets; she let go of the past, of the memories, of the part of her that had clung to what could never be.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, Maddie made one final trip to the trash bin, her arms full of discarded dreams. This time, she didn’t look back.
