“Yes,” she said, pulling the girl into her arms. “Yes… I’m your aunt.”
For a moment, Lina didn’t move.
Didn’t react.
Then slowly—carefully—she leaned into the embrace.
Like someone who had forgotten what it felt like to be held.
Around them, the silence changed.
It was no longer judgment.
No longer discomfort.
It was something else.
Something human.
The wealthy man looked down at his untouched glass, suddenly unsure of himself.
Phones lowered.
Eyes softened.
Because this was no longer entertainment.
It was truth.
Raw.
Unscripted.
And impossible to ignore.
The woman pulled back just enough to look at Lina’s face again.
“…where is your mother?” she asked, voice urgent again.
Lina’s eyes dropped.
“…she’s sick,” she whispered. “She couldn’t get out of bed anymore… so I went to get food.”
That was it.
That was all.
No drama.
No exaggeration.
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