When I was 6 years old, he took me home.
At the age of 13, by chance, I found a blood relative.
Accompanied by my biological parents, I happily packed my luggage. I pretended to be intimate and leaned against my biological father, whom I had just met twice. I pointed at the young adoptive father I had lived with for six years and said, "Dad, he is the one who has always taken care of me."
The father nodded, then took out a bunch of banknotes from his briefcase and said, "Thank you very much for taking care of my son these past few years. This is our little thought..."
He held a cigarette in his mouth, looked at me with his hands on his waist, took the money from his father with a calm expression, and nodded. After a while, he said casually: "Ah... You're leaving? Well, take care of yourself. I won't send you off."
At that time, I gritted my teeth and made up my mind that I would never look at that person in my life. However, it took me ten years to come to the conclusion that "I was wrong."
I admit that you are the best person in the world to "carry", but I can't.
(Adopted father and son, attack next year.)