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Fourty Eight hours

작가: Lady min
last update 최신 업데이트: 2025-12-29 21:30:31

Time became an enemy the moment Rachel walked out the door.

Forty-eight hours.

The number echoed in Alex’s mind like a ticking clock, each second tightening around his chest. He sat on the edge of his bed, arms wrapped around himself, staring at nothing while the bond hummed—restless, aware, almost impatient.

💭 They want me to choose.

💭 Or they’ll choose for me.

Downstairs, Brian paced.

He hadn’t realized he was doing it until the floorboard creaked beneath his heel for the fifth time. His instincts were stretched thin, pulled in opposite directions—protect, hide, claim, resist. Every option felt like a trap.

❄️ “Think,” he muttered. “There has to be a way.”

But the truth was ugly and simple: the Council didn’t care about ways. They cared about order.

And Alex disrupted it.

Brian stopped pacing and dragged a hand down his face. 💭 This is my fault.

💭 If I were stronger… if I were colder…

A sharp flare from the bond cut through his thoughts.

Alex.

Not pain—fear. Contro
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  • MY BROTHER IS MY MATE   The Cost Of Holding Back

    Restraint had a shadow. Alex felt it in the bond first—not as fracture, not as rupture, but as uneven weight. Where clarity had settled for many, frustration gathered at the edges, sharp and restless. 💭 This is the part no one warns you about. Progress without spectacle left some people feeling unseen. “They’re losing patience,” Kyla said quietly, reviewing messages. “Not the core. The periphery. People who gave more than they could afford.” Brian leaned forward, elbows on knees. ❄️ “They think you slowed it down.” Alex nodded. “Because slowing down looks like stopping when you’re tired.” The bond carried voices Alex hadn’t heard in weeks—soft, strained, edged with disappointment. Why are we negotiating when they hurt us? Why does it feel like they’re getting time and we’re getting lectures? If this is working, why does it still hurt? Alex closed his eyes. 💭 Because healing doesn’t reimburse losses. He didn’t respond immediately. He’d learned that reflex answers sounded

  • MY BROTHER IS MY MATE   What The Records Holds

    The transcript didn’t leak. That alone told Alex everything. 💭 They’re taking it seriously. If the panel had wanted pressure or spectacle, fragments would have surfaced within hours—selective quotes, softened edges. Instead, there was nothing. Just the quiet hum of a system absorbing something it hadn’t expected to carry. The bond reflected it—not tense, not eager. Weight-bearing. Kyla noticed first. “No counter-narrative yet.” Brian looked up from the window. ❄️ “Meaning?” “Meaning they’re arguing with themselves.” Inside the Council, the review panel reconvened with binders thicker than before. Alex’s testimony sat beside data sets, affidavits, inspection logs, funding delays, and the memo that had started it all. The chair addressed the room. “We have two options. We contextualize this until it disappears—or we integrate it and change course.” A legal panelist frowned. “Integration sets precedent.” “Yes,” the chair agreed. “So does avoidance. One we can defend.” Elias

  • MY BROTHER IS MY MATE   The Room Without Windows

    The room was smaller than Alex expected. No flags. No insignia. Just a long table, soft lighting, and walls painted a careful, forgettable gray. The kind of space designed to feel neutral—and succeed only if no one looked too closely. Alex felt the bond tighten, not defensively, but attentively. 💭 They want precision. A clerk checked his name, offered water, and gestured to an empty chair. Across the table sat seven people—review panelists, each with a folder and a practiced stillness. No hostility. No warmth. Politeness sharpened to a blade. “Thank you for coming,” the chair began. Her voice was calm, professional. “This session is on the record. Closed, but transcribed. You may review the transcript after.” Alex nodded. “Understood.” “We’re not here to debate,” she continued. “We’re here to understand.” Alex met her gaze. “Then I’ll answer carefully.” The first questions were structural. “Define the bond as you experience it.” “Is participation voluntary?” “How does inf

  • MY BROTHER IS MY MATE   After The Answers

    The day after the hearing felt unreal in its normalcy. Buses ran late. A bakery sold out of bread by noon. Someone argued with a parking attendant over a ticket that was absolutely deserved. Life, stubborn and untheatrical, carried on. Alex found comfort in that. 💭 If the world can stay ordinary after something breaks open, maybe it’s strong enough to change. The bond was quieter than it had been in weeks—not withdrawn, not tense. Integrated. Like a muscle that had finally learned its natural resting state. Kyla slid a tablet across the table. “Transcripts are being cited already. Two judges. One regulatory board. A university review committee.” Brian raised an eyebrow. ❄️ “That fast?” “They were waiting,” Kyla said. “The hearing gave them permission.” Alex nodded. “Permission matters to people who want to do the right thing but don’t want to stand alone.” Outside, the Council’s tone shifted—subtly, but unmistakably. Press statements began to include phrases like community i

  • MY BROTHER IS MY MATE   Questions Without a Script

    The hearing was announced as a gesture of transparency. Alex heard the words and felt the bond tighten—not in alarm, but in recognition. 💭 They wouldn’t do this unless they had to. Public hearings were messy by design. Once you opened the door, you couldn’t choose which truths walked in first. The Council had avoided them for years, preferring panels, reports, carefully filtered consultations. But the memo had changed the math. Now silence looked like confirmation. “They’re calling it an open forum,” Kyla said, scanning the announcement. “Public questions. Limited time. Moderated.” Brian’s lips thinned. ❄️ “Moderated by who?” “By a panel of five,” Kyla replied. “Two Council members. One legal scholar. One civic mediator. One… wildcard.” Alex raised an eyebrow. “Wildcard?” “Name withheld,” Kyla said. “But they insisted on independence.” The bond stirred faintly—curiosity without pull. 💭 Someone inside pushed for that. The days leading up to the hearing were tense in a ne

  • MY BROTHER IS MY MATE   What Slipped Through the Cracks

    The leak didn’t announce itself. There was no dramatic drop, no encrypted blast across channels already primed for outrage. It appeared the way truth often did now—embedded, almost polite, slipped into a space where it was assumed no one would look too closely. Alex felt it as a sudden tightening in the bond, sharp and specific, like a finger tapping glass. 💭 Someone found something they weren’t supposed to. Kyla’s slate chimed a second later. She stared at it, then looked up slowly. “We have a problem.” Brian straightened. ❄️ “Define problem.” “A memo,” Kyla said. “Internal. Council Strategy Subcommittee. Circulated three months ago.” Alex didn’t rush her. He’d learned that rushing people when they carried fragile things only made them drop them. “What kind of memo?” he asked. Kyla swallowed. “The kind that answers the question they keep pretending no one asked.” She projected it onto the wall. It wasn’t inflammatory. That was the worst part. No slurs. No threats. No gra

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