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... p> Billy stepped outside, inhaling the crisp night air as he sank onto the porch. The wooden planks groaned beneath him, still holding the last warmth of the day.

The village murmured in the distance—soft voices, the occasional bark of a dog, the rhythmic chorus of crickets filling the silence. The scent of earth and firewood clung to the air, grounding him.

He let out a slow breath, resting his arms on his knees.

The weight in his chest hadn't lifted.

Not after d ...

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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.”

“But, why me?”

“Why not you?”

“I’m very petty, and I get jealous very easily.”

“So am I.”

“I’m afraid I’m not worthy of you.”

“So am I.”

“I haven’t really dated, so I don’t know what love is.”

“I don’t know either.”

He held my hand gently, “But I know this. When I think about spending the rest of my life with you, I feel that my future is filled with hope.”

At 16, we used the same class desk, with less than 10cm between our arms. My peripheral vision was full of him.

At 26, I woke up in the morning, and saw the sunlight softly shining on his face. I thought, this is how I want to grow old – gradually, together, with him.

I guess this must be love.