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Daniel was her only true believer. He had seen the brilliance in her long before the rest of the world caught on to the fact that she even existed. He understood that she wasn’t shrinking because she lacked strength; she was simply waiting. She was gathering the momentum of a thousand late nights, pouring her energy into a vision that existed only in her notebooks and in the quiet conversations they shared in the dark. He defended her not with words, but with a steady, unwavering presence, offering her the sanctuary she needed to refine her craft. He knew that the version of Mira he saw at 2 a.m.—the architect of her own destiny—was the only version that truly mattered.
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