And then their hands found each other in a subtle yet profound connection.

“Aisha.” His murmur held a weight of realization, an unraveling truth echoing through his consciousness.

“Leon, I’m Millie.” She gently withdrew her hand, a step backwards. “Is sorrow your specter, conjuring phantoms?”

No, hallucinations did not cloud his senses.

In this ephemeral juncture, Leon’s phone resonated with an urgent melody—a call from Claudia.

“Got it.”

concluded the call by ending it. Claudia had implored him

cautious retreat, a chasm of ache formed in his chest, a whisper of regret tracing its

him, a memory intertwined with his forceful demand for her to exchange

Such a ludicrous spectacle.

across his gaze, her own unease began

Angela’s Library

Millie declared, a waiting

faded into the distance, he proceeded to unlatch his car door and enter. One cigarette succeeded another, a series of bitter inhalations

relentless smoking, as if each puff were an enactment of his lung’s preordained folly. Igniting yet another cigarette, the interior of the car swiftly became veiled

grappled with uncertainty. Could Leon’s profound distress be

of despondency. After pondering for a while, a decision crystallized: it

our investigation had determined Fiona to be an incorrect lead in your pursuit. She is not Aisha. Rather, she is an imposter who underwent plastic surgery,” the assistant

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