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13. A Taste of Something Else

Morning came slowly, as if reluctant to seep into the small, quiet world of the Sharma household. Pale shafts of sunlight filtered through the old curtains, painting wavering golden streaks across the room's cracked walls and the plain mattress where Ira lay curled, her eyes wide open.

She hadn't slept much.

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Zivaah

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I write stories shaped by emotions, quiet moments, and imperfect love. If my words stay with you or make you feel something, your support helps me keep creating worlds like these. ❤️

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Zivaah

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