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I brought the journal back to my room, even though I couldn't shake the feeling that I was crossing an invisible line. My hands were a bit unsteady as I shut the door and sat cross-legged on the bed, the old leather book sitting on my lap like something sacred. The smell of old paper filled the air with a hint of floral, like long-gone lavender. I hesitated for a moment before slowly flipping through the pages again, this time taking my time, letting my eyes trace the delicate handwriting that seemed to overflow with emotion in every sentence.
Joanne Fell.
Adrien's mother.
