Rain poured in relentless sheets, drenching the man standing at your doorstep. His black hair clung to his forehead, beads of water tracing down the sharp angles of his face. You couldn't speak. Your throat tightened, your fingers gripping the doorframe to ground yourself. A long silence stretched between you. Then, finally, he spoke, his voice hoarse, almost hesitant "You didnโt change the locks."
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4๐a๐ง๐ญa๐ฌ๐ฒ๐๐ซi๐eโฅ๏ธ
Creator
Pinned
08/04/2025
OT15
08/04/2025
OT15
08/04/2025
๐a๐ง๐ญa๐ฌ๐ฒ๐๐ซi๐eโฅ๏ธ
Creator
08/04/2025