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Little birds sang from the rose garden.
A gentle breeze carried the scent of violet, which had once become a symbol of Sheena's curse—now transformed into a sign of new hope for her forthcoming life, reflecting her journey from despair to renewal.
From the high balcony, Sheena stood gazing at the royal garden.
The maple leaves were beginning to turn red, a sign of a new season.
Her hand rested on her belly.
Still flat. No phy ...
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