This is my entry for the short story contest organized by @stach

A Bottled Message

It's been eighteen years living with a man who had no drop of his blood in my veins. I was too blind to see that we didn't share the same complexion, mum told me my grandfather was fair that's why I took after his skin not my father's.
Alison, my over curious friend once said she overheard them arguing on when to disclose my identity when she came to visit but I waved those words away, everyone knows she blabs like a hungry parrot so I couldn't believe such joke.
Early Tuesday morning, the breeze was cool, birds were chanting their tune. I woke up tired and drained, tales had it that when your ancestors lashed you terribly in the dreamland, you'll wake up exhausted but my ancestors were good people so I laughed over the thought and dashed out of the room.
"Come over here, Sandra",I heard mum's voice from the living room and I obeyed.Here am I facing my mother who handed me a note after enough stares at dad's face. One question lingered in my head, why keep it a secret for so long. I stared at their blank faces and couldn't get any answer.