I grew up in an orphanage, the kind where you learn early that nothing is permanent—rooms change, caretakers change, friends get adopted, and you learn to hold people lightly because everyone leaves eventually. But somehow, one person never left: Lila. We weren’t just friends; we were two kids clinging to each other in a place that felt temporary by design. We slept in the same row of metal-framed beds, whispered secrets under blankets after lights-out, and promised that when we finally aged out, we’d build the kind of family neither of us got to grow up with.Family We aged out...
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