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Zainab leaned back, but he held her still.
Years ago, there was an epidemic in the city. A fever. I was young, arrogant. I thought I could cure everyone. I worked to the point of delirium. I made a mistake, Zainab. A miscalculation in a dye. I didn’t kill a stranger. I killed the provincial governor’s daughter. A girl no older than you.
Zainab felt the air leave the room.
“They didn’t just take away my title,” Yusha continued, her voice cracking. “They burned my house. They declared me dead to the world. I became a beggar because it was the only way to disappear. I went to the mosque looking for a way to die slowly. But then your father came. He spoke of a daughter who was ‘useless.’ A daughter who was a ‘curse.’”
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