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Chapter 92: A Visit from the Oatrun Brothers
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I sat in my usual seat at the long dining table, watching the subtle rise and fall of steam from my oxtail and butter bean stew. The aroma alone was heavenly—rich, savoury, layered with spices, but it wasn’t enough to distract me from the atmosphere.
Wanda sat across from me at the table, oddly silent. Her posture was stiff, her gaze lowered, and she chewed with mechanical precision, as though her mind was elsewhere.
Not once did she attempt her usual glares or half-h ...
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