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... ntly against his skin. The seams are a little tight.

After shutting the door to his room, another memory gradually surfaced.

He recalled Ruvian’s mother bent over the fabric late into the night, diligently trying to sew him those clothes.

He should feel affectionate from reminiscing about that memory, but rather, it made his skin itch more than the fabric.

’I mean, this all still feels weird.’

’I don’t even know if I should be calling her "my" mother.’

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