The room bore the scars of her frenzy. Leon approached Millie, his concern surfacing. “Are you unharmed?”

Millie shook her head, stepping back cautiously. “I am intact.”

Millie entered the room, saying, “I’ll fetch the design drawing. Please wait.”

In the room, Millie rubbed her scratched arm from the carton.

Fiona teetered on the brink of madness, propelled from destitution to opulence, and now hurled back to her origins. Such a drastic shift often carried a poignant ache of acceptance.

Yet sympathy found no place within Fiona’s narrative, for her own choices sculpted this trajectory.

in surprise at the tidied room—Leon had erased the

Millie extended the draft. “Here lies

on the blueprint with an intensity that concealed myriad

“Why did Fiona address you

pocketed the design, his gaze

I was Flynn Davies. The name appeals to me more

T-shirt, embroiled in brawls day by day. Over time,

name and attire, yet the aloofness within

over Millie, sensing Leon’s profound anguish. He believed he’d found his life’s devotion, only to be ensnared in a

“Preserving some past memories is

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