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She kneels next to Peter on the mats, his head cradled into the crease of her neck and shoulder, even as she feels his tears soak the neckline of her dress and run down her chest.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry baby,” Rose whispers against his hair and they stay like that until Peter’s breathing evens out, until she can’t feel her legs anymore, until the only sounds are her continued murmurs.
I’m so sorry.
Or,
Peter learns the truth about his father.