Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Andrew ascended the stairs, the wood creaking softly under his weight as he approached Dora’s room. He paused in front of her door, his hand hovering just above the painted surface. His heart ached at the thought of the pain he had caused her—disappointment that was still fresh in her eyes as she slammed the door shut.

He wanted to knock, to tell her again how sorry he was, to hold her and promise that he’d make it up to her. But he knew she probably wouldn't answer, that she needed space. The last thing he wanted was to make things worse by pushing her too hard.

Andrew sighed, lowering his hand. The hallway was dark, a single lamp casting a dim light that barely reached Dora’s door. He hesitated for a moment, then turned and made his way to his own room, his heart heavy. He opened the door to his bedroom, the familiar scent of lavender and freshly laundered sheets filling the air. He closed the door behind him and crossed the room, collapsing onto the bed, his body sinking
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