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... time. Even after eight long years and countless desperate efforts to suppress it, the memory still clung to him like a shadow. The day Zeke fell —it played so vividly as if it had just happened the other day.

"It’s my fault," he whispered, his voice breaking. His chest heaved as the memory consumed him again. His hands trembled, still feeling the ghostly sensation of Zeke’s hand slipping from his grasp.

The guilt he had buried for years came rushing back, raw and unreadable. The ...

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