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Then say it.
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What does it matter now?
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It matters to me.
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The truth is...
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...I'm just glad I could still feel something, anything.
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And that's my fault somehow? How dare you!
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Our fault.
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There's enough blame to go around.
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Dalia, please don't go.
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- What? - I don't want you to leave.
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Don't worry.
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I won't make a scene.