The bar was packed—laughter, music, the clink of glass. Soren looked up, and time stopped. Theo slid onto a stool, older, rougher, lost in thought. He didn’t recognize the man in the sharp suit with gold on his wrist. Soren approached, voice steady. “Hi. What can I get for you?” Theo glanced up, then away. No spark of recognition. Just another stranger. But Soren’s heart was anything but still.
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