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

a chasm of ache formed in his chest, a whisper of

surfaced of Millie kneeling before him, a memory intertwined with his forceful demand for her to exchange Lois. Placing a pen at her throat, he aimed to coerce

Such a ludicrous spectacle.

Millie, agony painted across his gaze,

Angela’s Library

declared, a waiting taxi becoming her

proceeded to unlatch his car

butts strewn across the ground, the assistant became privy to the relentless smoking, as if each

assistant grappled with uncertainty. Could Leon’s profound

empathy, the assistant found it difficult to witness their highly esteemed boss in a state of despondency. After pondering for a while, a decision crystallized: it was time to inform Leon that Fiona was not, in fact, Aisha. His sorrow need not be carried to such an

to be an incorrect lead in your pursuit.

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