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My sister died giving birth to triplets their father never wanted. I raised them alone for eight years. Life was finally calm — until the day the gate opened, and the man who abandoned them came to take them back.
“Don’t do this, Jen.
Jen, my younger sister, turned to me in her wedding dress, eyes filling with tears.
The lace sleeves hung loose around her wrists. She’d lost weight during the engagement.
I’d noticed but hadn’t said anything.
“You don’t understand,” she said, her voice shaking.
“I love him. I know he messes up, but he always comes back.”
I looked at the faint crease between her eyebrows, the one I’d smoothed away more times than I could count.
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