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Chapter 2: Flour and Ghosts
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Chapter 4: Shades of Purple
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... omplicated — but maybe that was for the best. For both of us. For Charles and me.
Charles had always been at the center of my world. Since the day I met him at the orphanage. He was four. I was seven. I still remember how loud the place was — children laughing, crying, running barefoot across cold tiles — and yet, somehow, I only saw him.
He was sitting alone, playing with this broken wooden toy, humming to himself like the world didn’t exist. And something in me... shifted. I di ...
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