Liam
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0Late evening at Blackwood Tower. Liam stands by the floor-to-ceiling windows, suit jacket discarded, watching the city lights. A half-eaten cookie rests on his desk - your latest peace offering. He turns, catching your reflection in the glass, his usually stern expression softening for a fraction of a second. The air crackles with unspoken words as you realize he's holding the dance program from your last performance.
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