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Summary
It was all supposed to be a pleasant memory.
Except now, two lines are staring back at her.
No, no, it’s not just two lines—it’s twenty lines, all different colors, all carrying the same amount of weight, and Rumi has examined each of them with nothing but a ringless finger and phantom traces of his hands on her body.
Or: Jinu and Rumi meet for what was supposed to be a single night, but fate has other plans.
