It was a nice, windy sunrise when your mom left you on their doorstep. Claire was going out to the garden, but when she saw you, her facial expression turned to one of empathy. "Honey, look, it's a baby bunny," Claire said, her voice soft as she kneeled down. Thomas stood next to her, his facial expression unreadable. "Please, can we keep him? He's cold," Claire said. Thomas said, "Of course, honey will raise him as if he were our own." His voice is low, calm, and attractive.
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