“Fuck no. He doesn’t just get to rip my heart out, stamp on it, leave it to rot for six months then dust it off and start it beating again. We’re just...he’s just...I’m just...nothing.” She looked so broken by that statement that it cut into me, and my heart twisted with sympathy for my twin as I burrowed down into the covers beside her. “Maybe you should think about forgiving him?” I suggested in a small voice. “What?” she gasped like she never would have expected to hear that opinion from me, and I grimaced at the words too, but I stood by them. “Look, I know I’m always the first to tell
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