Now that Bruce had finally found Isolde, his heart still refused to settle. The sight of her standing in the snow, shivering so helplessly, unsettled him all over again.Her fragile frame, her soaked hair, her lips drained of color by the cold—each detail cut into him like a blade, piercing straight through his chest. A crushing, all-consuming regret nearly drowned him.'If you don't love me, then don't. If you don't care, then don't. Why test it? Why prove it?'He was the one in pain. He should have kept it to himself. She had the right to do as she pleased."Isolde…" Bruce felt hollowed out, drained of strength, weighed down by exhaustion and defeat.He loosened his tight hold on her, stepped back half a pace, and looked at her through the falling snow.Then he reached into the inner pocket of his coat and took out a neatly folded piece of paper. The edges were worn, evidence that he had unfolded and read it countless times.It was the contract they had signed, the one he had
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