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Summary
“Your husband? Only if I could be just that, Shivvy.” The voice spits the words out, like acrid poison that burns, burns until there is nothing left but hatred. Shiv’s whole body freezes, her fight or flight activated, skin crawling with goosebumps, bile rising in her throat. She reaches up to touch his face, finding a full unkempt, coarse beard, not the clean smooth shaven face of her husband.