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Chapter 77: The Weight of Gratitude
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... ocked over three others.
The pages were full of my own handwriting, love notes I’d obviously written to Lily during our time together. Sweet words about her laugh, her goodness, her beautiful eyes. But reading them felt like reading someone else’s diary. I could see the proof that I’d loved her, but I couldn’t feel it.
"Come on," I mumbled to myself, picking up another notebook. "Remember something. Anything."
This one had sketches of Lily’s face spread throughout my stud ...
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