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71. Help

Celia’s POV

   I could feel him rubbing my hand continuously to keep me warm. I couldn’t even protest. I have no mind and energy for it. We hail a taxi to home since I am in no position to walk. It is just a ten minutes drive to our houses and in the mean time I get back my senses, started to breathe without opening my mouth and feel terribly ashamed about the pain that is consuming me. We went to our floors silently. When the elevator door opened and we got out, I apologized him for my mess. Abash is a little word to explain what I feel.

    “It’s okay. You have got a panic attack, Celia. You weren’t yourself back there. I think you need help.” He said all the way while walking me to my flat.

    “No. I am fine by the way I am.” I said trying to sound causal while pulling my jacket more close to my body.

     “Celia,” He caught my hand making me stop, “I am not saying this because I am a the

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