PREVIEW
... ther, the table between us feeling less like furniture and more like a line drawn in the sand. The room was quiet. The kind of quiet where you could hear the faint clink of porcelain and the soft rustle of fabric when someone shifted in their seat. It still carried the lingering warmth of what had happened earlier, though neither of us acknowledged it directly. The air felt heavier for it.
"That’s right," Lilia said, lifting her teacup with deliberate calm. "I’m surprised you even heard ...
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