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The words helped. K'airos was the only person in the world whose words meant anything anymore. D'aijeen closed her eyes and held close to her sister, feeling the movement of her chest as she breathed, smelling that unmistakable scent that had been with her for all the best parts of her life. Truly, if there was anywhere in this world that love existed, then it was where K'airos was. If any person who was truly capable of it, then it was only K'airos. And herself. For what else could this be?
It was exactly what her mother did not feel for her.
"Airos." D'aijeen lay her head against her sister's chest, lay her hands flat against her body. "Why are you dressed as me?"
It was exactly what her mother did not feel for her.
"Airos." D'aijeen lay her head against her sister's chest, lay her hands flat against her body. "Why are you dressed as me?"
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