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04.11.2025, 17:17
On the day Zahra turned fifteen, the house was filled with guests and the smell of saffron pilaf. Fifteen years old. The age when you no longer look up at the world, but stand on equal footing with it, and it reveals itself to you in all its complexity and fragility. Uncle Hossein and his wife came from Tehran, bringing French perfume and a silk scarf as gifts. Uncle Javad was there too. He looked better than he had in recent months—the medication was apparently helping
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