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⊰ 12 ⊱ What I Can't Deny

| Malachi |

I sit on the rickety kitchen chair, the wood creaking beneath my weight as I watch Penelope sleep. She’s curled up on the futon, one hand resting protectively on her belly, her face softened as she rests.

Three days.

That’s how long we’ve been holed up in this dingy little apartme...

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