My Grandma Raised Me Alone After I Became an Orphan – Three Days After Her Death, I Learned She Lied to Me My Entire Life

My whole life rearranged itself inside my skull.

Seventeen years later, I stood in a cramped dressing room, staring at my reflection under harsh lights.

Makeup smudged. Hair pinned up. A cheap costume hanging off my shoulders.

On the counter sat a small glass award with my name etched on it.

Not Broadway.

Not huge.

But mine.

I dug in my bag and pulled out a folded, fragile letter.

Same creases. Same blue ink. Soft from being opened too many times.

I laid it down next to the award.

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