The night air clung to her skin like dew, cool and sharp, but Vera didn’t flinch. Her eyes were still glassy, lashes damp with grief, but her breathing had begun to settle.Asher hadn’t let go of her hand.He sat beside her in silence, their fingers intertwined on her knee, anchoring her to the moment, to something that wasn’t loss.“I feel like a stranger to my own story,” she whispered, her voice thinned by tears. “Everything I thought I knew… it’s been rewritten. Dorian didn’t help me out of some selfless kindness. He did it because she asked him to.”“And maybe,” Asher said softly, “he kept helping because he wanted to.”She looked at him then, eyes searching. As much as her heart was in pieces, a small part of her latched onto that.Maybe it could be both. Maybe love and duty had coexisted.“I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she admitted, the words falling out in a quiet confession, nearly drowned in the chirping crickets and distant wind. “But I also don’t want to talk anymore.
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