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Chapter 13

As a 6-year-old, I would always draw names and play alone near the persimmon tree beside the convent. Other children don't want to play with me but my mothers will always find time to play with me when they are free. One day, they entered the big dark echoic hall so I tried following them but they immediately stopped me.

I pouted, watching and peeking at them behind a pillar, listening to their conversation before entering the big hall.

"Did he donate again?" Mother Teresa asked.

"Yes." The other sister answered.

"He never tells me why he would always leave money for Eva, and I almost thought that he was the father of that child. But he said he was just moved by her story."

Story?

I tiptoed to the other pillar closer to them so I can hear them more.

"Who wouldn't be? Why would a mother leave her child inside a box near the trash? That's just monstrous."

Box...Trash...? I thought my parents died on the fire?

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