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making today’s tea.”
He smiled, gripping my hand with what strength remained.
“I can smell it. The cinnamon scent. That’s enough for me, Sarah.”
His breathing slowed. Each breath more shallow than the last.
“Thank you,” he whispered. “For seeing me. For choosing me. For making every day beautiful.”
“I love you,” I said. The first time I’d spoken those words continue reading …
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