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... the bliss slipping away like smoke between his fingers. His breathing came uneven but slow, his eyes darting here and there, trying to anchor themselves to the tiny room. His gaze finally dropped to Sukamu.
Sukamu reached out, his voice steady, soft as winter wind. "Hey... rest. Rest well. You’re in no position to move yet." His hand pressed gently against Auren’s thick white sweater—the one Nova Makai had gifted him.
Auren’s trembling hand fell slowly onto the blanket, his eyes ...
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