“Love, When It Finds You Late”

Chapter 10: The Distance She Can’t Measure

Chapter 10: The Distance She Can’t Measure

Amara didn’t sleep that night.

Not properly.

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She closed her eyes.

Turned from one side to the other.

Pulled the blanket closer.

Then pushed it away.

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But rest never came.

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Because her mind refused to stay quiet.

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It replayed everything.

Every word.

Every look.

Every pause.

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Especially the way he said it—

“Then we take it slow.”

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There was something about that sentence that unsettled her more than anything else.

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Not because it was wrong.

But because it was safe.

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And safe was dangerous in its own way.

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Safe made you stay.

Safe made you trust.

Safe made you lower your guard without realizing it.

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And Amara had spent too long building hers.

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She sat up around 2:14 a.m., exhaling slowly.

“This is stupid,” she whispered to herself.

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She got out of bed, walked to the window, and stared out at the quiet Lagos street below.

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A few cars passed.

A distant voice echoed.

Somewhere, someone laughed.

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Life was moving.

Normal.

Uncomplicated.

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And yet—

Her chest felt heavy.

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Not with pain.

Not with fear.

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But with something unfamiliar.

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Expectation.

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She didn’t like it.

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The next morning, she woke up later than usual.

Rushed.

Unfocused.

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Even getting ready felt different.

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She paused longer than necessary in front of the mirror.

Adjusted her hair twice.

Changed her outfit once.

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Then frowned at herself.

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“Why does it matter?” she muttered.

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It didn’t.

It shouldn’t.

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But something inside her answered anyway:

Because you might see him.

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She shook her head quickly.

“No,” she said out loud.

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That wasn’t a plan.

That wasn’t something she was expecting.

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It was just a thought.

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And thoughts didn’t mean anything.

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She grabbed her bag and left.

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The day started normally.

Emails.

Calls.

Deadlines.

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But nothing held her attention for long.

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Her mind drifted.

Again.

And again.

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Until finally—

She gave up pretending.

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Around midday, her phone buzzed.

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She picked it up casually.

Expecting work.

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But it wasn’t.

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Unknown number.

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Her heart skipped.

Just once.

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She stared at the screen for a second longer than necessary.

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Then opened the message.

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“You made it home safely?”

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Amara blinked.

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A small frown formed on her face.

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She didn’t save his number.

He didn’t ask for hers.

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So how—

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She stopped that thought immediately.

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“Focus,” she whispered.

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She typed back slowly.

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“Yes.”

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She stared at the message before sending it.

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Then hit send.

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A few seconds passed.

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Then her phone buzzed again.

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“Good.”

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That was it.

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No follow-up.

No extra words.

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Just… good.

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Amara exhaled slowly.

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“That’s it?” she muttered.

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She wasn’t sure what she expected.

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But it wasn’t that.

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And somehow—

That simplicity pulled her in more than anything complicated could have.

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She placed her phone down.

Tried to return to work.

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But her focus was already gone.

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Five minutes passed.

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She picked up her phone again.

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Typed something.

Deleted it.

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Typed again.

Deleted it again.

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“This is ridiculous,” she said under her breath.

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She dropped the phone back on the table.

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But not before noticing something.

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She was smiling.

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Just slightly.

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And that scared her.

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Because she didn’t remember the last time something so small affected her like that.

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The rest of the day dragged.

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Not because it was slow.

But because her mind wasn’t where she was.

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By evening, she felt restless.

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Not tired.

Not exhausted.

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Just… unsettled.

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So instead of going straight home—

She walked.

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No destination.

No plan.

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Just movement.

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The city lights flickered on one by one as the sky darkened.

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People passed her.

Talking.

Laughing.

Living.

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She kept walking.

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Until she realized something.

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She was heading toward the café.

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She stopped.

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Looked up.

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And there it was.

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The same place.

The same door.

The same quiet glow from inside.

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Her heart tightened slightly.

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“This is not intentional,” she whispered.

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But it didn’t matter.

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Because she was already there.

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She stood outside for a moment.

Thinking.

Debating.

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Then sighed.

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And walked in.

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The atmosphere felt familiar.

Comforting in a way she didn’t expect.

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She scanned the room quickly.

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He wasn’t there.

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Her chest dropped slightly.

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Then she frowned.

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“Why does that matter?” she asked herself.

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She shook it off and sat down anyway.

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Ordered a drink.

Opened her laptop.

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Tried to focus.

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Minutes passed.

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Then—

“Starting to think you only come here when you’re confused.”

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Her head snapped up.

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He was standing there.

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Of course he was.

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Amara blinked.

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“You’re following me now?” she asked.

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He smiled.

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“Or maybe you’re following me.”

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She rolled her eyes slightly.

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“I didn’t even know you’d be here.”

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He shrugged.

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“Same.”

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Silence.

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Then he sat down across from her.

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Like it was normal.

Like it had always been this way.

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“You look like you’ve been thinking all day,” he said.

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She sighed.

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“Maybe I have.”

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He nodded.

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“About what?”

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She hesitated.

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Then said honestly:

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“You.”

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The word surprised even her.

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But she didn’t take it back.

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He didn’t react dramatically.

Didn’t tease.

Didn’t smile too wide.

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He just nodded once.

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“Fair,” he said.

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That made her frown.

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“That’s it?” she asked.

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He tilted his head slightly.

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“What do you want me to say?”

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She didn’t answer immediately.

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Because she didn’t know.

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“I don’t know,” she admitted.

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He leaned forward slightly.

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“Then maybe stop trying to control it,” he said.

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Silence.

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Because that was exactly what she had been doing.

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Controlling.

Managing.

Restricting.

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And it wasn’t working.

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“I don’t like not knowing where things are going,” she said quietly.

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He nodded.

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“I figured.”

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A pause.

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“But that’s the thing about real connections,” he added.

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“They don’t come with directions.”

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Amara looked at him.

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“That sounds risky,” she said.

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He smiled slightly.

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“It is.”

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A pause.

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“But so is missing something real because you were too careful.”

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That hit deeper than she expected.

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Because she had been careful.

For a long time.

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And where had it gotten her?

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Alone.

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Safe.

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But empty.

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She looked down briefly.

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Then back at him.

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“So what are we doing?” she asked.

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He didn’t answer immediately.

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Instead, he said:

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“We’re talking.”

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Simple.

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Too simple.

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And yet—

It made sense.

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No pressure.

No labels.

No expectations.

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Just… presence.

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Amara exhaled slowly.

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And for the first time that day—

She felt calm.

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Not because she had answers.

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But because she stopped forcing them.

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“Okay,” she said quietly.

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He smiled.

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And that smile felt different this time.

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Not distant.

Not unfamiliar.

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Closer.

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And that scared her.

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But she didn’t run.

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Not this time.

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Because maybe—

Just maybe—

This was something worth not understanding yet