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The idea of any part of us being resigned to the past, deemed an insignificant relic of an era that has been forgotten, makes my entire being ache. Amina could never be my past. Our love—our history, our future, and even this impossible present where she won’t acknowledge that she’s mine— lives in a place where time doesn’t exist. A boundless space where the brand she left on my heart has never faded. A ceaseless oasis that will continue to be even when this world is gone and our bodies are nothing but dust floating in the cosmos.
He loves Amina!
