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... vanishes. My breath catches, and for a fleeting second, I forget everything—the dull sting blooming on my forehead, the likely red mark that will form soon. None of it matters.

All I can focus on is the intoxicating scent of pine and the firm, steady warmth of his hand resting on my waist.

"Kaya?"

The sound of my name barely registers before he suddenly spins me around. Our bodies nearly collide, the movement so abrupt that my breath stutters in my throat.

Startle ...

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The night before we obtained our marriage certificate, I asked him, “When did you start to develop feelings for me?”

He answered, “I don’t remember.”

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