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... he had said, Ray finally spoke again.
Sitting on the sofa, his fingers intertwined, his posture still tense, he looked at her with weary eyes. His voice, though calmer, still carried the weight of years of grief and anger.
"Why are you here, Esme?"
The question lingered in the air, heavier than the silence that followed.
Esme met his gaze, her expression unreadable at first. Then, a faint smile tugged at her lips—not one of joy, but of quiet longing, of something ...
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