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“Just some girl, yet her face is tattooed on your arm,” he dryly retorts, his tone patronizing.
“Louise, I love you. This”—I grab her hand, placing it on my chest right where my heart beats wildly for her—“this is yours, it’s all yours, and will always be yours. I want you to know that you own every part of me, and no one, absolutely no one will ever have this because it’s all for you, my love, my happy, my everything, only for you.”

