Chapter 36 The Quiet Rearrangement of Truth

When someone leaves,

their presence is supposed to shrink.

Diminish.

Fade.

Become memory.

That didn’t happen with him.

The brother left — quietly, in the same way he arrived.

He didn’t disturb anything, didn’t linger, didn’t attempt closure.

But somehow, after he was gone—

the house felt more a...

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