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.

he coaxed in a low voice, his own emotions swirling

with her and the knowledge that it would

the moment she called him “Mark,”

name she seldom used, and when she had referred to him as “Uncle Mark”

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him by his name, he felt the weight of their history together—a history that involved a

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their bodies

were not of physical pain but of sorrow and

night, he indulged himself in this tender moment of

him ‘Uncle Mark’ later that

dormant love and affection, their passion reignited

broke, Cecilia

handsome face magnified before her, lying

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