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... as serious—when she finally understood there was no path left for retreat—her resistance cracked.
Not shattered.
Not broken.
Just... yielded.
"...Fine," she said at last, her voice tight, brittle with resignation. "What do you want to talk about?"
I didn’t answer.
Instead, I looked at her.
I let the silence stretch.
Long enough for it to grow heavy.
Long enough for it to crawl beneath her skin and ignite her temper once more ...
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