he old tree. Neither of them noticed the elderly woman standing on the other side of the fence, watching them with a strange expression. Madam Evelyn had lived in the neighborhood for long. Peo
s your name." He pulled her into his arms. "I'll remember you when I have nothing. I'll remember you when I have everything." She closed her eyes, holding him as though she could somehow preserve that moment forever. Neither of them knew that, in a few years, Damian would stand in a mansion filled with expensive furniture, surrounded by people who praised him, and struggle to remember the exact sound of her laughter. That night, Naomi went to Madam Evelyn's house. She had heard the old woman speak of a traditional rite that could protect a loved one's journey through hardship. Naomi did not fully understand it, but desperation had made her willing to listen. "Are you certain this is what you want?" Madam Evelyn asked. Naomi sat across from her, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. "I want Damian to succeed." "That is not what I asked." Naomi swallowed. "I want him to have a future. I want him to escape poverty. I want him to become the man he dreams of becoming." "And what are you willing to give?" "Whatever I must." Madam Evelyn's face darkened. "Be careful, child. Love is not a market where you can exchange your happiness for another person's success." "I am not asking for his love in return." "Then why are you here?" Naomi lowered her head. "Because I'm afraid that if I leave him behind, life will destroy him before he gets his chance." The old woman studied her for a long moment. Finally, she stood. "There is a ceremony you may perform. But understand this: no ritual can make another human being faithful. No sacrifice can r
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