The next morning, Juno woke without the arguing memory’s taste and with the bracelet warm around her wrist. The absence didn't feel cruel; it felt like a window cleared. She visited the old stone and found, carved faintly, J + M and a heart. Dust on the inscription had flattened the lines; a gust of wind stirred the letters and a scrap of paper stuck at the base—a receipt for a bus ticket, stamped the day Mara left.
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