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White Chain was arranging chairs for the support group when she saw a familiar figure cautiously enter the room. Long red hair, sad eyes, and a gaze that pieced White Chain with a lifetime of pain and regret. White Chain immediately rushed over to her and wrapped her arms around the woman. Because she knew. That if she came, that meant she’d finally accepted it.
“Star, you’re here.”
Somehow she knew that name was right. The woman, her rival, her friend, her something, had always been White Chain’s Star, even if neither of them had been able to recognize it.