PREVIEW

... the room in a suffocating grief. It was the kind of silence that didn't just linger—it mourned.

Nana Shaw lay motionless, her frail body at last free of its burden. Her chest no longer stirred with breath, her lips slightly parted, as if caught mid-whisper. She looked as though she'd drifted into a peaceful sleep.

But there was no waking from this slumber. She was gone. Gone with a whisper of grace, a sliver of joy in her heart, and a prayer lingering on her final breath.

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