Time seemed to lose its meaning as they lay entangled, their clothes in disarray beneath the bed.

Tears glistened in Cecilia’s eyes as she felt a hint of sobriety mixed with a daze.

Her slender fingers gently caressed Mark’s handsome features, and she whispered hoarsely, “Mark, no one can bully me.

In her heart, he was the only one, from beginning to end!

She cried like a little girl, her heart torn between wanting him close and feeling wronged.

Mark gently brushed his slender fingers against her glamorous face, trying to comfort her.

“Don’t cry, Cecilia.

a low voice, his

with his feelings, torn between staying with her and the

moment she called him “Mark,”

was a name she seldom used, and when she had referred

©

felt the weight of their history together—a history

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their bodies seeking solace in

tears were not of physical pain but of sorrow

of night, he indulged himself in this

‘Uncle Mark’ later

and affection, their passion reignited

Cecilia

found Mark’s handsome face magnified before

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