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In the fourth week, Elena was dusting the sitting room and singing Cielito Lindo when she felt someone behind her.
She did not turn.
She kept dusting.
Kept singing.
Then she heard it.
One word.
Small as a breath.
“Sing.”
Elena went still.
Her hand stopped in midair.
Her heart missed one beat, then raced.
It was Mia.
The youngest.
The one who used to sing made-up continue reading …
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