A lifted curse
Arthur cleared his throat and spoke gently. “One wing of the house is yours, if you want it. Live here with us. Pay a little rent, and we’ll make it work.” The old woman’s lips quivered into a smile, tears streaking her cheeks. The man gripped Arthur’s hand firmly. “Thank you,” he whispered. In that moment, something lifted from the air—the heaviness, the dread. The house no longer felt cursed.
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