The air inside the hospice was sterile and faintly sweet, flowers, antiseptic, and something older, sadder, like memories that never fully left.

Chloe moved slowly down the quiet hallway, her arms folded around a small bouquet of white lilies. Her heels clicked softly against the linoleum floor, a soft rhythm to distract her from the lingering weakness in her limbs. Her mother had always loved lilies.

She hadn’t visited in a few days. Too caught up in… everything.

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