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... h her, she no longer cared. Ivy went up to the roof. The plants enveloped her in their green silence. Pushing away harmful thoughts, Ivvy felt her mother comforting her. She learned to distinguish their voices: the ivy was protective, the basil cheerful, the rosemary melancholic.

And although she knew in her mind that perhaps it wasn’t her mother, her heart preferred to believe the opposite.

In that small garden, Ivvy was finally learning what happiness was.

Free from bei ...

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