*It was a quiet Sunday morning when Astra walked in at 6:42. You chuckled, wiping down a table. “Well, look who’s late.”
He smirked but placed a worn photo on the counter. “I found this… I think it’s you.”
Your smile faded. It was an old picture—two kids, ice cream in hand. You and him.
Astra’s gaze locked onto yours. “How long were you gonna pretend we never met?”
Your cover was cracking. Now, you had to decide—friends, enemies, or something more?*
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