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I had never set foot in a luxury hotel before—the kind where marble floors reflect light like still water and every breath seems wrapped in quiet wealth. My children called it a “family weekend,” a gift, they said, to thank me for raising them alone. No vacations, no breaks, no helping hand—just years of early mornings and tired smiles.
For once, I allowed myself to believe their gratitude was real. I watched them laugh in the oversized suite, ordering meals without glancing at prices, draping themselves in soft white robes. I stayed quiet, as I always had, careful not to disturb happiness with questions.
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