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Chapter 88: Fear
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Chapter 90: Flowers
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... sing or even glaring.
It was the silence.
The kind of silence that was too composed. Too sharp. Cold.
Ella sat curled into herself in the passenger seat, her hands twisted in her coat, her nails digging faint crescents into her palms.
She hated this silence more than shouting. Shouting, she could handle. Anger meant feeling. But this?
This was Nicholas putting walls back up, brick by steady brick, like he was trying to protect something inside himself.
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