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... p>

Not dead, not cold—just... quiet.

Like it was holding its breath, too afraid to disturb what lay at the heart of it.

I blinked slowly, not quite ready to move, the scent of firewood and skin clinging to the sheets like perfume. My body ached in the best possible way—sore in places I didn’t know could feel good. But more than that, I felt safe... clean... not dirty.

Which was weird.

Safety was never something I chased. It was something I resented. Everyone el ...

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