Nolan’s POVThat night, after the fire had died to embers and the house fell into a hushed winter silence, Clara and I slipped upstairs to my old childhood bedroom—our bedroom now, in a way it had never been before. The door clicked shut behind us with a soft finality, and for a moment, we just stood there, staring at each other in the dim glow of the bedside lamp. The room looked the same: faded posters on the walls from my high school days, the creaky twin bed pushed against the window, shelves lined with dusty trophies and books I'd long forgotten. But everything felt different. Charged. Like we'd reclaimed a piece of the past that had once tried to tear us apart.Clara moved first, stepping close and sliding her hands under my shirt, her fingers cool against my skin. "Today was... unreal," she whispered, eyes searching mine. "Holding Mom like that. And Dad... hugging you. Us."I pulled her closer, burying my face in her hair, inhaling the familiar vanilla and paint scent that was
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