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The next morning, we went to my mom’s work.
She was on a break in the staff lounge, sitting alone with a coffee cup in her hand and that same empty look in her eyes.
“I’m okay,” I said quickly. “Please, just sit. I need to show you something.”
Jacob stood back as I opened the folder and laid everything out on the table. She didn’t speak. Her eyes scanned every photo, every printed email, and every receipt.
And then her hands began to shake.
“He told me I was crazy,” she whispered.
“I know.”
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