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The house grew heavier with silence. When Grace tried to talk to Mrs. Turner about it, the older woman smiled vaguely, her eyes distant, as if she was listening to a voice no one else could hear.
Sometimes, late at night, Grace thought she heard murmurs through the locked bedroom door — hushed conversations, a sob, or Ethan’s voice speaking softly, too gently for comfort.
But safe from what? Grace couldn’t shake the question.
The Night of the Storm
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