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Chapter 127: The Unspoken Language of Birds
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Chapter 129: Operation Art of War
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... ew because he’d been counting—not on purpose, but the way you notice someone coughing in the next room. Draw. Erase. Draw. Erase. The soft scratch of pencil on paper had become the soundtrack to their mornings.
He stood in the kitchen, staring at the pancake box like it held the secrets of the universe. Add water. Mix. Pour. How hard could it be?
The doorbell rang.
Thea’s pencil rolled off the table. They looked at each other.
"You expecting someone?" he asked. ...
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