The sight of him stole Clara’s breath in a way she hadn’t anticipated. Leo lay curled on his side, small and fragile, almost like a bird with a broken wing seeking shelter from a storm. His tiny fingers were tangled tightly into the folds of the bedsheets, knuckles blanching ever so slightly as though he were bracing himself, even in sleep, for some unseen pain. Clara’s eyes traced the faint lines that tears had carved along his cheeks—silvery trails that caught the late… CONTINUE READING…
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