Hold My Tear, I’m Getting My Wife Back!

Leanne was exhausted, and when her body touched the bed, she was ready to drift off into sleep, forgetting her usual bouts of insomnia. Curtis wrapped his arms around her, gazing at her peaceful face under the soft glow of the bedside lamp.

The room was silent in the dead of night, her breathing slow and even, reminiscent of a cat luxuriating in a lazy morning nap.

During his two years in Starlake, he had longed for moments like these.

Curtis watched her for a moment, his fingers itching to touch her. He gently played with her eyelashes, so long and curly, fluttering like tiny fans. Leanne's eyelashes twitched at the touch, and she briefly opened her sleepy eyes to look at him before closing them again, unguarded and serene. Her nose was cute, too, perky and delicate. Curtis couldn't help but lean down and kiss it softly.

She didn't even open her eyes this time.

His kiss wandered to her soft pink lips, lingering and loving. "Leanne, I love you. Do you know that?" he whispered.

...

Leanne unsurprisingly overslept the next day and rushed to get dressed and out the door.

Curtis pulled her back gently. "What's the rush?"

late," she

and woken up earlier

me for that. How can I fight it when your folks made you so darn cute, pretty much designed to drive me

the peculiar looks thrown her way.

striking, while she was stunning and radiant. The media had gone wild with phrases

circulated wildly among her colleagues, and it turned out that the Eye Department's Hottie Anne was not married to

turned

asked,

interrupted, "Leanne, you've been holding

erupted

right in front

looked like you, and you didn't even deny it. Turns out the

interject. "She didn't deny it. It was Sandra

like our little princess didn't want to be friends with us peasants. And if it weren't for her powerful connections, how could she have

have mistaken your lines.