RALIA I sat in front of my window, starring out, and wondering what would have happened if my mother lived, if my father was poor, if I did not have any brothers, how my life would have turned out. I’m what they call a curse disguised as a blessing, or at least I am a blessing to my family and a curse to myself, though I am not allowed to say that out loud, it might . . . tarnish my innocence, and I am not allowed to do that. My family was not always rich. My father was a poor coppersmith when he met my mother, and according to what I was told, they fell in love with each other, married, and lived happily, but not for long. My mother kept giving birth to children – she had eight children before me, and there was just no money to take proper care of them. Things got worse and even more worse for my family, until – just like in the fairytale stories, they met a witch. The witch gave them the key to riches, and I was that key. According to the witch, my mother was going t
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