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... garden, half-concealed by swaying lantern-lit foliage and a sea of murmuring elites, weaving through the crowd with effortless grace, he spotted her.
Monica.
She walked along the far edge of the garden, her steps unhurried but purposeful, as though the crowd parted for her rather than the other way around. Her poise was ethereal—elegant and serene—cutting through the chatter and clinking glasses like a moonbeam slicing through mist. The gentle breeze tugged at the hem of her ivo ...
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