Chandria’s POVAfter I had broken down in front of Daniel, sobbing until my throat felt raw and my chest felt empty, something shifted.The wall he had kept between us, that skeptical, distant look in his eyes like he was constantly trying to solve a puzzle he didn’t want to be holding, had finally crumbled.Daniel was patient.It was a quiet, heavy kind of patience that made my heart ache. He didn’t rush me. He held my hand firmly, his thumb occasionally grazing my knuckles in a way that felt grounded and real. When I struggled with the buttons of my dress, his hands were there, steady and sure, helping me get ready.“Where are we going?” I asked, my voice still a little raspy from crying.He looked down at me, and for the first time, his smile didn’t feel like a mask. It was soft, almost relieved. “Here,” he said simply.As we stepped out of the room, he didn’t let go of my hand.He led the way, our footsteps echoing against the polished floors.I tried to focus on the warmth of his
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