He was proud of me

𝖬𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 '𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗌' 𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉, 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗎𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝖾. 𝖬𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺 𝖢𝖤𝖮, 𝖺 𝖫𝖺𝗐𝗒𝖾𝗋, 𝖺 𝖯𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗇, 𝖬𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗇, 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗉𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗈𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝖿𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗈. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖺𝗅𝗌𝗈 𝖺 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽, 𝖺𝗇 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗁𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋. 𝖮𝗁 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖻𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝗂𝗆! 𝖨 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗍 𝗆𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗁𝖾 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖽𝗈𝖾𝗌. 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗇𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗌𝗁 𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗀𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖾'𝗌 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾'𝗌 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾...

𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗀𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽. 𝖡𝗒 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖨 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝖿𝗂𝗀𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗁𝗈𝗐 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗐𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗋 𝗂𝖿 𝗁𝖾 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗋𝖾𝖾. 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗎𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖽𝗈𝗐𝗇. 𝖧𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖨 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝖻𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾.

𝖨 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝗎𝗉, 𝖻𝗈𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝗎𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗂𝗇𝖽. 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝗅𝗌𝖾 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖨 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀. 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗒𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖼𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽, 𝗉𝗋𝗈𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝖺𝗌 𝗆𝖾. 𝖧𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗀𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝖻𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝖽. 𝖶𝗁𝗒 𝗐𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗋𝗈𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝖽? 𝖣𝗂𝖽 𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖺𝗒 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀? 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗇𝖽 whispers "𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄, 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒'𝗋𝖾 𝖺 𝖻𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝖿𝗅𝗎𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝖫𝖾𝗍'𝗌 𝗀𝗈 𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗌𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗐𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗐?" 𝖨 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗎𝗉 𝗍𝗈 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾𝖽, 𝗌𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈𝗈.

𝖨 𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗇'𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝗈 𝗁𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖻𝗎𝗍 𝗂𝖿 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗇 𝖨 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅. 𝖨 𝗇𝗈𝖽𝖽𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗁𝗎𝗀𝗀𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝖺𝗅𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝖺𝗌 𝗐𝖺𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗎𝗌. 𝖧𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖺 𝗍𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗁𝗎𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗌 𝗆𝖾 𝗎𝗉 before going 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗋, 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝖾 𝗈𝗇 𝗆𝗒 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋'𝗌 𝗅𝖺𝗉.

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