I Found a Terrified Little Girl While Making a Delivery and Adopted Her – 16 Years Later She Said, ‘I Never Want to See You Again’

Sixteen years ago, I was just a broke delivery driver with a crappy car when a six-year-old girl in pink heart pajamas ran out of a silent house and wrapped her arms around my waist. By the end of that night, she was sleeping in my apartment while I tried to figure out who her parents were. I thought the hardest part was over once I adopted her—but it turns out, the past doesn’t always stay buried.

Sixteen years ago, I was 24, broke, and delivering packages for a living because it was the only job that didn’t care that my resume basically said: owns a car, doesn’t crash much.

That was it.

No degree, no plan, no five-year vision board. Just me, a faded blue polo, a temperamental scanner, and a beat-up Honda that rattled when I went over 30.

Most of my route blurred together, the kind of muscle memory where my hands turned the wheel before my brain caught up.

Mr. Patel’s porch with the loose step.

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