The party was winding down, and the night had been a whirlwind of emotions and triumphs. I had mingled with countless guests, shared laughs, and even had that unforgettable kiss with Martins. But as I was taking in the last moments of the evening, something caught my eye. In a corner of the room, partially hidden by the shadows, I saw my mother. She was standing there, clapping softly, her eyes filled with tears. Our eyes met for a brief second, and I quickly looked away, a flood of mixed emotions washing over me. I felt a hand on my shoulder and turned to see Madam Katie, her expression one of gentle concern. “Carina,” she said softly, “can we talk for a moment?” I nodded and followed her to a quieter corner of the room, away from the remaining guests. Madam Katie looked at me, her eyes serious but kind. “I saw you noticed your mother.” “Yes,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “I did. But I don’t want to talk to her.” Madam Katie sighed. “Carina, your mother came to se
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