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Eight.

Author: Chihiro
last update Last Updated: 2024-08-22 12:40:49

Maria

Our conversation flows effortlessly from there, moving from art to the city. I'm careful not to reveal too much about myself, but I can't help but be drawn to him. His charisma is intoxicating, and I find myself flirting with him more than I ever have with anyone before. I can't help but let myself be swept away by the possibility of falling in love. Maybe not with him—he's still a total stranger—but I want it to happen one day.

Mikhail is nothing like the high school boys I know, and I feel embarrassed for being so eager when Trevor's hands were groping me at the party. I inhale as discreetly as I can when he looks away for a moment.

In New York, I can create myself, just like a work of art.

"There's something about Kaori's art that transports a person into another world," I say breathlessly as we finally walk away from the painting and move on through the gallery. "I'd love to be in her world, even for a moment."

Mikhail nods as he smiles knowingly and leads me over to a self-
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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Ten.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Eleven.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Twelve.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Thirteen.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Fifteen.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   Sixteen.

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   175

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   173

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   172

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   171

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   170

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   169

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   168

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  • Arranged To The Bravta King   167

    MariaCHRISTMAS EVEA few cards sit on the mantel among a twisty wire of bright lights. The Christmas tree stands in one corner, its branches covered in twinkling lights and ornaments from the attic. For the first time in a long while, the living room furniture is draped in cozy red-and-green throws, and a plush white rug adds to the holiday style. The scent of cinnamon and cloves fills the air downstairs, but none of this is enough to put me in the mood.The only thing that makes me smile is a sonogram of my baby propped up on the mantelpiece.Dad sits in the kitchen wrapping gifts. The sound of paper folding and the cut and the hiss of tape being pulled off the spool is calming, like white noise. I stare at the colorful presents crowded under the tree with big loopy bows.I want to care that Christmas is tomorrow, but I just don't.It's hard to care when I can only think about Mikhail."You don't mind that they're coming over?" Dad enters the room, picking at a roll of tape, trying

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