@lkpropertieshq: Alhamdulilah serah kunci kg kota, kb #lkproperties #lkholdingsdnbhd #ikhlasdalamperjuangan #binarumahatastanahsendiri #rumahmurahterengganu #binarumahkelantan #binarumahselangor #binarumahpahang #kontraktorkelantan #rumahmampumilik #bangloviral

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Wednesday 31 May 2023 06:51:15 GMT

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Hafeez Anaqi :

berapa hrg rmah ni..dan cra byaran?

2023-05-31 07:16:05

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Tulun dusun :

Sabah ada cavor juga

2023-05-31 15:33:01

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👀👀👀 #bluearchive _____________________________________ Nina had lived in her small apartment for three years. She knew every detail—the way the floor creaked near the kitchen, the chipped paint on the window frame, the flickering light in the hallway. But one night, something changed. There was a door. It stood between her bedroom and the bathroom, where there had never been one before. It matched the apartment perfectly, as if it had always existed. But it hadn’t. Her heart pounded as she reached for the knob. It was cold under her fingers, but it turned easily. The door creaked open. Inside was a small, dimly lit room. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves, filled with dusty, leather-bound volumes. A wooden desk sat in the center, illuminated by a single lamp. The air smelled of aged paper, ink, and something faintly metallic. It felt… familiar. She stepped inside cautiously. The floor didn’t creak. It was silent, too silent. On the desk, there was a notebook with her name embossed on the cover. Nina hesitated before opening it. Inside, every page was filled with her handwriting. Thoughts, memories, events—some she remembered, others she didn’t. There were descriptions of things that hadn’t happened yet. Notes about dreams she had never spoken of. And then, on the last page, fresh ink.

👀👀👀 #bluearchive _____________________________________ Nina had lived in her small apartment for three years. She knew every detail—the way the floor creaked near the kitchen, the chipped paint on the window frame, the flickering light in the hallway. But one night, something changed. There was a door. It stood between her bedroom and the bathroom, where there had never been one before. It matched the apartment perfectly, as if it had always existed. But it hadn’t. Her heart pounded as she reached for the knob. It was cold under her fingers, but it turned easily. The door creaked open. Inside was a small, dimly lit room. The walls were lined with tall bookshelves, filled with dusty, leather-bound volumes. A wooden desk sat in the center, illuminated by a single lamp. The air smelled of aged paper, ink, and something faintly metallic. It felt… familiar. She stepped inside cautiously. The floor didn’t creak. It was silent, too silent. On the desk, there was a notebook with her name embossed on the cover. Nina hesitated before opening it. Inside, every page was filled with her handwriting. Thoughts, memories, events—some she remembered, others she didn’t. There were descriptions of things that hadn’t happened yet. Notes about dreams she had never spoken of. And then, on the last page, fresh ink. "You shouldn’t have come." A chill ran through her. Then she heard it. Footsteps. Slow, deliberate, just behind her. She spun around. No one was there. But the door— Was gone. The bookshelves seemed taller now, stretching impossibly high. The warm glow of the lamp dimmed. The books began to whisper, their pages rustling as if unseen hands were flipping through them. Nina’s breath came in shallow gasps. She turned back to the desk. The notebook had changed. The words on the page were different now. “It’s too late.” A shadow moved in the corner of the room. The whispering grew louder. Then, a hand—pale, too long, too thin—emerged from the darkness. And Nina finally understood. This wasn’t a room that had appeared in her apartment. She had appeared in it.

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