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Hundred and seven

Chris's POV

I woke up in my luxurious apartment, the soft glow of dawn filtering through the heavy curtains. It was a Monday morning, but unlike every other Monday where I usually woke up early, eager to get to school so I wouldn't miss Kamille's arrival with the kids, but today was different.

I knew there wasn't going to be any Kamille anywhere.

I lay in bed for a few moments, staring at the ceiling, her absence pressing heavily on my chest. With a sigh, I threw off the covers and made my way to the bathroom.

The water was hot as it cascaded over me, but it did little to wash away the frustration gnawing at my insides. As I dried myself off, memories of Kamille flooded my mind—her laugh, her touch, the way her lips tasted pressed against mine.

“Fuck,” I muttered to myself, gripping the edge of the sink. “What the hell have you done to me, Kamille?”

That night in the car when I kissed her felt like the earth had met the sun. It was a simple brush of our lips, but that kiss had hun
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