Write the right answer to the question based on the context passage.

[EX Q]: Oh dear. Another tale of woe from me
When I met my ex, I was in foster care. I was a very confused 17 year old, and she took an interest in me, and we would talk about all my problems with my own family, and everything that was going wrong with me. I even 'came out' to her at one point.
We spent a lot of time together and gradually, I thought I might not be gay after all, as I had feelings of love for her. Eventually, we started dating and I tried to suppress my gay feelings. Eventually, I proposed. We were engaged for just over a year and I got married at the age of 19.
I have to admit, when the wedding plans got firmed up and much closer to the date, I started to feel that I was in fact still gay but so much money had already been spent, and plans made that I was too afraid to pull out. Don't get me wrong, I still love my ex wife a heck of a lot, but as my very best friend. I hate to use the phrase, but with everything that has gone on with me the last few years, she has been 'my rock'.
We separated after about 8 years, when our daughter was 7 years old, and I told her why. I just couldn't go on living the lie. I hate myself for doing it to her. Selfishly, I wouldn't change things though, as I have my daughter and I love her, and I love being a parent.
We had 'Unexpected Song' played as she walked down the aisle at the church; the lyrics really summed up how we felt about each other and how we had gotten together
Unexpected Song Michael Crawford YouTube. Question: Who took an interest in the 17 year old?
[EX A]: His future wife

[EX Q]: Marnie Sleightholme was well chuffed when she got the chance to be carnival queen, and she couldn't give a shit if it was true what folk were saying about her only getting picked because she'd had her right arm ripped off. Ever since the accident, Deborah Bullock had been using twice as much make-up to disguise her rage. Marnie being picked as carnival queen had only made her pile it on even thicker. Deborah Bullock told anyone who would listen how it was a complete piss-take to give the job to a cripple. 'Imagine getting a wedding cake covered in frosty decorations and shit like that, but it's already got a big chunk bitten out of it. Well, that's exactly how it is.' Deborah Bullock had dreamed of being carnival queen since more or less the start of primary school. She used to tear their pictures out of the newspaper and dress up to look like them, and tell Marnie she never could because she was too fat and ugly even to pretend. It was Deborah Bullock's on-off boyfriend who'd been driving the car Marnie had been sitting in when it veered off the road and crashed into a tree halfway down Back South Lane. It was pointless trying to hide the truth. There was only one reason anybody went down Back South Lane at that time of night, and the flashing blue lights illuminated the exact location for the whole town to see. When Marnie came round in a hospital bed, the first face she saw was Deborah Bullock's. She felt an ache in her side and blinked her eyes. The room was bare and cold. There was an empty chair in the corner. Deborah Bullock slapped some cheap flowers down on the bed and leaned in. She smelled of talcum powder and nicotine. 'Do you want the good news or the bad news? The good news is you've finally lost some weight. The bad news is, they've chopped your right arm off. So you're still a fat bitch.' Question: Who visited Marnie in the hospital?
[EX A]: Deborah

[EX Q]: Everybody knew Shandor Marley's mother liked to spend more time flirting with serial killers than she did taking care of things at home. So when her son went round with an air rifle popping his neighbours like they were allotment pigeons, they figured all the boy really needed was a bit of attention. Shandor finally flipped one day after finding out the inbred farm boys who made his life hell most days were in fact his half-brothers. He returned home to confront his mother only to find her pritt-sticking press cuttings of the Mad Killer into a brand new scrapbook and seemingly not in the least bit concerned by her son's unexpected discovery. Luckily Shandor's shooting spree didn't do too much damage beyond putting one of his so-called new father's eyes out, which could be considered doubly unfortunate given as the so-called new father in question owned the old byre Shandor and his mother called home. After Shandor had spent enough time shut away in borstal with the kind of kids who would've sent his mother all weak at the knees, he went straight home half-expecting the byre to be boarded up with a blu-tacked note saying she was lugging her stupid arse to Texas to spring her latest psycho boyfriend from his cell on death row. Shandor was thinking how much that excuse would sit well with her as he scuffed up the stone track to the byre with a black bin-bag of belongings and a sunburned arm across his forehead to shield himself from the glare. The place looked pretty much the same as he remembered it, only three years worse off. The strip of grass outside the back door was parched yellow and paint peeled around the blown-out windows. He had a hand on the door before he knew for sure it was still lived-in. He flapped thunderbugs off his forearm and creaked open the door. The kitchen stank of stale cigarettes and the dregs of spirit bottles. Question: Who shot with an air rifle?
[EX A]:
Shandor