forgiveness

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I visit the library again, just in case.

Byakuya is there.

But he's not reading a book.

He has a piece of paper in his hand.

He's standing at the desk that I wrote the letter on yesterday.

I stand, staring at him in the doorway.

"I'm sorry, Byakuya," I whisper.

He turns to me.

He runs over.

He hugs me.

"I missed you too, Makoto."

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