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the way.”
On December 15th, Mia came home. I heard the front door open, footsteps in the hallway, then she appeared carrying a duffel bag.
“I’m sorry, Dad,” she said, her voice cracking. “I should have listened.”
I crossed the kitchen and pulled her into a hug. She collapsed against me, sobbing.
“You have nothing to apologize for,” I whispered. “You loved continue reading …
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