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Slowly, she began to believe in safety, in permanence, in love that did not disappear. By her fifth birthday, our home was full of yellow balloons and laughter. Sophie ran through the house in a sunflower dress, declaring it the best day ever.
Then a sharp knock cut through the noise. A woman stood at the door, trembling, claiming to be Sophie’s biological mother. She spoke of forgotten medical tests from infancy, of warnings she never shared, of information she said we deserved to know.
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