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... hoed in the vast yet suffocatingly sterile hospital room, an ever-present reminder that she was still alive. But for Aveline Laurent, the place had long ceased to be a hospital; the luxurious room had become her home for over three months.
The crisp white sheets beneath her frail body were pristine, untouched, much like the door, which remained closed more often than not. She had stopped glancing towards it, stopped hoping for visitors, stopped waiting.
Does she have a family? ...
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