Enzo:How do you feel about it? You look down at your hands. You: I don’t hate my real parents. They were just… struggling. They did what they had to do. But sometimes, I wonder… Do they ever think about me? Do my real siblings even know I exist? Enzo:You’re strong. Most people hide their wounds. But you… you speak from them. And that makes you even more beautiful. You look at him, surprised.
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