"You mentioned you had a sister," he said quietly, catching me off guard. The question came out of the blue, and for a moment, I hesitated, unsure if I wanted to admit the truth. "My older sister Sasha," I replied, my voice tinged with sadness. "By all rights, she should be the one marrying the asshole," he muttered, his disdain evident. I was frozen for a few seconds, the weight of his words sinking in. "My sister is dead. She has been for a few years," I confessed, feeling a mix of vulnerability and relief for opening up. He shifted slightly, acknowledging what I had revealed. There was no love lost between him and a man like the one I had mentioned. "She got in with the wrong crowd and didn't know how to keep her mouth shut," I continued, memories of the day my father received the devastating phone call flooding back. It had changed everything for him, and in turn, for me. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said, his voice low and filled with genuine sympathy. "Family is important."
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