Chapter Thirty-Nine
Deogal
She says enough. So I give her absence.
It is a cleaner instrument than touch.
Sharper, if used correctly.
She will pace there. She will bruise herself against the walls of it. She will call it worry first, then guilt, then longing, because humans rename things when they’re ashamed of wanting them.
I do not need to pull her apart every night.
Not anymore.
Her mind knows the shape of my hands now. Soon, it will do the work without me.
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