Days passed, and slowly, the names of those three people faded from my life.Half a year later, the company organized a charitable donation trip to a remote, underprivileged region. I went as the company's representative to a small mountain village school.It was there that I saw Tasha again.She wore simple clothes, her face weathered and lined, handing out lunch to a group of children. When she saw me, she froze. The spoon in her hand clattered to the ground.The once-glamorous office professional now looked older than the villagers she served. I was momentarily taken aback. The world really is small.She avoided my gaze, lowering her head as if trying to pretend she didn't know me.The school principal came over warmly, introducing her."Ms. Simpson, this is our volunteer teacher, Tasha Parker. She came from the city six months ago and has been teaching here. The children adore her."Volunteer teacher?I studied Tasha with a new curiosity. Could a person who had once betray
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