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The lights are off and he finds her on her couch. Her head is propped on a small throw pillow and her eyes are closed, both hands clasped where they rest over her stomach. She’s not asleep—he can see the rise and fall of her chest, the intentional way she’s inhaling each breath.
Moving closer, he settles the shopping bag onto her coffee table and then drops to a crouch on the floor beside her.
“Rebecca,” he breathes, her name sympathetic on this tongue.
Bookmarked by Creativitylover47
01 May 2024