He had a lot of make-up work to do. Forgiving him wasn’t easy, but. . . I was losing my mind. I felt like I was slipping. Like I needed this. Like it was fate. Like it could work. . . “Fate has a funny way about her, doesn’t she?” he asked, swaying with me gently. “If this is how it’s supposed to be, then I regret nothing.” Funnily enough, I was beginning to regret a lot less too. He smirked. “That’s why we dance. To prove we’re still alive. That we’re still fucking screaming inside. That we’re fighters. That we’ll never let them take that from us. So keep fighting. For all of us. Promise me?”
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