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Summary
“You disappeared.”
“I had no choice.”
“You could have called.”
“I was scared.”
“Of fucking what?”
Every sentence felt like peeling open an old wound. Every word tasted like memory. Lute’s voice wavered on a line she normally would’ve delivered flawlessly:
“..I never stopped thinking about you.”
For a heartbeat, the room stopped breathing. Vaggi’s throat tightened before she forced out her reply:
“That makes one of us.”