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Not loud. Not hysterical.
Quiet, tired tears—the kind that come when someone has held everything in for too long and their body finally decides it can’t carry it alone anymore.
Jake stayed where he was, hands clasped, letting her cry without looking away.
He didn’t tell her to stop.
He didn’t tell her it would be fine.
He just let the truth have its moment.
When Elise’s breathing started to steady, Jake spoke, voice low.
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