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Chapter 2: Colliding Paths
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... fluttering open. The ceiling above him wasn’t cracked and dull like the one in his old apartment. No. It was painted ivory, trimmed with gold. Too perfect. Too expensive.
He sat up with a jolt, heart racing as the sunlight spilled across silk sheets. The bed was too soft, the air faintly perfumed, the curtains heavier than anything he’d ever owned in his entire twenty-two years.
"This... isn’t my room." His own voice sounded small against the vast silence.
He stumbled out ...
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