My Donor
she tells me.
“Which little boy?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Don’t mess with me, Ami.”
I sigh. “Aunt Ken, I’ve moved on. I don’t want to talk about him.”
“Kenya, leave her alone,” Mom saves me.
“No, I don’t know why you waited four months to tell me. Now, if I stab him, I can’t claim a crime of passion in court,” Aunt Ken retorts.
“Mom, stop it,” Zara says to her mother.
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