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56.1

A U T H O R


The room was bathed in a soft golden glow, the flicker of scented candles standing against the ivory walls, casting long, quiet shadows. The air carried the faint fragrance of roses and sandalwood, as though the world itself wished to honor the silence of this night. Vihaan sat on the couch, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes… restless. The calm in his room was a reflection of his soul—white and gold, measured, composed—but tonight, even the calmest soul was not free from anticipation.

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reverieewrites

I pen the chaos your soul secretly longs to wander in.