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“What is he doing,” she shouted to the empty car, heart racing.
Then the world fractured.
For a moment, there was only silence, thick and unreal.
Inside the bus, children screamed.
Rowan was already on his feet, voice cutting through the panic like a steady hand on a shoulder.
“Listen to me,” he said firmly.
“Stay seated, check the person next to you, and if you’re okay, raise your hand.”
One by one, small hands lifted, trembling but unharmed, and Rowan moved down the aisle, counting quietly, touching shoulders, grounding fear with presence, his face unchanged but his focus absolute.
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