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... e’s been avoiding my eyes. Why he’s been treating me like something that might break if he holds too tightly.
I let out a slow breath.
"Deniz..."
His name comes out softer than I intended. He looks at me, and his voice is weak, frayed at the edges, like something worn thin by too much holding on.
"I heard the doctor. Your condition..." He swallows, his throat working against words that don’t want to come.
"It’s so complicated. Fragile. Because of your rut ...
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