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Within an hour, a massive truck arrived. Snow was piled high around her house, blocking the driveway, garage, and windows—a frozen fortress.
Dennis arrived, furious, shouting about his house. I stayed calm. My mom sat in the car quietly. Inspectors arrived, and soon Kylie, Dennis’s daughter, stepped out. Shock and confusion replaced her polished posture when she saw my mom’s cast.
I helped her into the backseat, blankets tucked around her like armor. That night, she stayed with me. I made soup, helped her into pajamas, and watched her sleep peacefully.
Two weeks later, she filed for divorce.
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