You thought this would go on. Soft days. Rain against windows. A life untouched by narrative teeth.
They did too.
But quiet cannot outrun a story forever. Even love cannot hide from the pen that birthed it.
They were a miracle in borrowed hours. Two souls where only one was meant to be.
They reached for ordinary. They held it. They made it real.
But moments are not destinies. And this world was always a fragile dream.
They were never written to stay together. And neither was this ending.
...
Close the book. Let them rest.
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