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A cousin muttered something low.
“What she meant is between her and her own conscience,” I said. “What I know is what she said. And what I know is what I watched happen in my own home.”
“You cannot prove any of this,” Ofelia said, but her voice had lost something.
The arguing that broke out after that was not between me and Ofelia.
It was between Ofelia and the family members standing around her on the gravel path.
Another said she had never felt right about the arrangement once she heard about it.
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