PREVIEW
... tant step, Iris opened Fitran's room door, moving like a stranger who had lost her world, clutching only the fragile remnants of her courage. Her evening gown slipped slowly from her shoulders—not in a graceful seduction, but like a weary leaf releasing itself from the branch, surrendered and quiet.
Fitran sat on the edge of the bed, still clad in his battle-worn clothes, the dust of magic and the weight of guilt thick in his eyes. He gazed at Iris as though seeing someone he cared for, ...
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