"Louis, I made you some soup. Would you try a sip?"
Louis Snyder didn't answer; he just said, "When I was a kid, life at home was tough. My father would get drunk and hit people, sometimes me, sometimes my mother. The house was always a mess; occasionally, when neighbors complained, my mother would hug me and hide in the room."
He recited each word slowly, his youthful voice still slightly green and hoarse.
Grace Yarn could only listen halfway before she couldn't help but tear up.
Louis heard the quiet sobs beside him, his eyes calm, but with a hint of scorn at the corner of his mouth.
Grace, unable to speak through her tears, said, "Louis, it's my fault. If I had found you earlier, you wouldn't have had to suffer so much."
She took all the blame upon herself.
Too much time had passed since that solitary act of rebellion when she jumped into the sea.
After that, there were countless reconciliations.
