MIRIAMI sat alone in the temple. The golden rays of the evening sun filtered through the stained-glass windows and cast long, colorful shadows across the polished marble floors. I had chosen one of the smaller meditation alcoves, tucked away from the main altar.My fingers trembled slightly as I traced the outline of the figure on the screen of my phone. The photo was old, slightly blurred, but it was him, my mate, smiling in that rare, unguarded way he only ever showed me. I held back the tears that threatened to spill, drawing in a shaky breath.I had been coming here every single day since I arrived, kneeling in silence, praying for him. I wanted to mourn him properly, to let the anguish in my heart finally break free and pour out, but I couldn’t.Most of all, his last message to me, sent two days before he died, kept echoing in my mind. He had asked for a chance to reconcile. To finally confess everything to our daughter. But as usual, I had been adamant. Stubborn. I thought we h
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