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Vak busu dat dit kuppu sutvuvu evu di’nuvak, pesa suvup azakupusa. Pesa udugab vesamapusa.1
Pesa wetasavakvu wevugavusa sobivakvu kuvug sanupusa. Xu nudnutasavasa i’rugavusa sisa. Pusa vak danusa di’vak lib di’nvusa kuxivu xu vaksa ovaknud wotugavusa etvu kuvug sanupusa.1
I have waited years to hear these words from you and to tell you how I truly feel. How do you truly feel? I ask timidly. Like I could conquer the world just to lay it all at your feet. His voice turns serious. Roxi, you are my first and last thought each day. I have longed for you more than I care to admit—not just as my friend and confidant but also as my lover and wife and amage.
No, little witch, he finally says. I hear his ominous laugh. You won’t be marrying anyone besides me. His voice is confident and uncompromising. I am coming for you. I will leave tomorrow at first light, and I will get there before a wedding takes place. And when I do, he continues, I will make graves of these grooms and anyone else who comes between us. Violent delight threads his words. You’re mine.
