Your breath hitched when you realized—he actually answered. “Do I even exist to you beyond your papers and meetings?” you whimpered. “I come home to silence, to cold sheets, to a man who doesn’t even look at me—am I that easy to forget?” His voice was low, thick with shadows: “If I touch you, my Грех, (sin) I’ll pull us into a darkness where desire devours reason.” Then—headlights, his car outside.
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