You won’t miss One Wizard, but you’ll miss her. You’ll miss the mundanity of stealing bits of her lunch, bickering with her over stupid phone calls, being dazzled by her outfits every day. “Shut up,” Nathaniel says. “You don’t have to justify anything to me. I know you.” She stills. “I do,” she clarifies, her voice dragging lower, something in her eyes shifting, the corners softening. It makes her look plaintive. Hesitant, for once in her life. She rubs her thumbs over the jut of your knuckles, a slow, rhythmic motion that hooks you to her like an anchor. You find yourself listing forward,
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