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... Bianca De Dominicis met Julian D’Aurelius’s gaze, tears leaving soft trails down her cheeks. Hurt showed in her voice when she spoke - her words slow, uneven. "It’s my ankle," she said, pausing between breaths. Walking felt wrong somehow, sharp each time weight shifted. Her hands stayed close to his arm, light but needing

Stillness settled, light slipping between high windows shaped like old continent dreams, touching the curling vapor above porcelain cups. A hint of jasmine drifted, mi ...

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