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Crown of Thorns
Category: Historical
The garden had been her mother’s pride, and now it was hers.
There were stories told of this place, and none of them ended well.
The train pulled out of the station with a long, mournful whistle.
A knock at the door changed everything.
She had learned long ago not to trust promises.
It was the kind of night when secrets refused to stay buried.
Some doors, once opened, can never be closed again.
She had not expected to see him again, not after all these years.
The end.