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Chapter 12 by fantaghiro

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questioning himself?

James’s pulse quickened as he caught sight of his reflection in the glass pane of the back door, the pink hem swaying around his thighs. A rush of heat ran up his neck. He was flustered—his own behavior didn’t make sense. This wasn’t him, wasn’t what he’d planned, and yet…

Instead of panic, something brighter hummed inside him. He should have been worried—should have torn the clothes off, should have demanded an explanation from himself—but that concern simply wouldn’t come. What replaced it was far more dangerous: a giddy thrill, a sense of release that made him feel almost dizzy.

It was like stepping into sunlight after years of shadow, every thought whispering that he was "back where he belonged". He twirled a lock of hair around his finger, bracelets chiming as he did, and the soft jingle made his lips twitch into a smile.

If he was honest with himself, a part of him didn’t want to think too hard about any of it. The questions—Why am I doing this? Why do I feel like this?—faded before they could fully form, drowned out by a voice that was both strange and familiar:

I’m alive. I’m young. I’m beautiful. I’m rich. Why shouldn’t I be happy?

The words weren’t his, not entirely, but they settled into him with the weight of truth. They felt right. They made him laugh softly, a bubbling sound that startled him and yet felt completely natural. Each time he tried to summon the unease he thought he should feel, it slipped away, replaced by a dangerous kind of contentment—like the click of a puzzle piece falling exactly where it was always meant to be.

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