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Chapter 151: Son of the year
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Chapter 153: Reconsider
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... e almost of their own accord to the table nearby. There, amidst scattered papers and an old ink bottle, I find a blank sheet and a pen. Writing has become my strange, fragile solace in these moments of overwhelming loneliness and uncertainty. So, I sit down, my hands trembling slightly, and begin to write.
They’re letters to Thorne, each one a piece of my heart put to paper. Sometimes they’re simple, filled with the mundane details of my daily life: what we ate that day, how the garden i ...
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