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... ot, the gentle clink of a wooden spoon against its sides providing a rhythmic accompaniment to the comforting warmth of the room. Across from her, Matilda moved with practiced ease, chopping vegetables with a sharp knife that gleamed under the soft lights.

"You’ve always been better at this than me," Mara said with a grin, her eyes darting to Matilda. "Remember when I tried to make soup that one time and turned it into... what did you call it? Oh, right—boiled disaster."

Matilda ...

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