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setting your kitchen on fire,” she joked once while placing a casserole on the counter.
“I only burned rice,” I muttered.
“Rice isn’t supposed to smoke,” she replied.
Lila laughed for the first time in days.
We weren’t thriving—but we were still together.
And that was what mattered.
One night, Sybil found me staring at the electricity bill.
“You’re making continue reading …
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