Dear Ira,
I was seven when we met for the first time. My grandpa found you and brought you to live with our family. It was a miracle. After all, the only information we had about your existence was the name of the nearest village where my dead uncle served his conscription.
You were 14 and beautiful. You looked like your dad. Charcoal black hair and dark eyelashes were the proof that you came from our family. Against your dark complexion, your ocean blue eyes captured my heart and imagination.
I remember how my family flocked around you when you just arrived. After all, they had finally reclaimed a living part of my dead uncle.
With time, you became a ‘normal’ family member. My grandma started taking you to weddings so that people could see your beauty and the right suitor came along to marry you.
Then something changed.
You…
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