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... rst sip of soup.
The spoon rose. Paused at Mother’s lips. Disappeared into her mouth with the kind of grace that could only come from decades of practice or complete indifference to human warmth.
Mother set the spoon down without a sound. Crystal against porcelain, perfectly silent.
Across the table, Isaiah had frozen mid-reach for his own spoon. Smart boy. He’d already figured out the most important rule of Valentine family dinners: never be the first to move.
Sa ...
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