“I knew this would be perfect on you,” she says, taking Lor’s hand and admiring her. “Isn’t she perfect?” She looks at me, her face shining and a knowing glint in her eye. “Yes,” I say, my voice rough. “Perfect.” Absolutely fucking perfect. Lor is watching me and, for the first time in days, she doesn’t look like she wants to turn around and hide. Instead, there’s a curiosity that lights up her eyes. Something that speaks of anticipation rather than dread. It’s hard not to hope she’s considered my words and changed her mind. Maybe I was too blunt and honest. I know what happened to her in
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