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CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

Anika's P.O.V

Why do these chance meetings keep happening? We always seem to run into each other unexpectedly, and it's becoming eerie.

The expression on his face clearly shows his annoyance at the stain on his white T-shirt.

"Ooh my goodness, I'm genuinely sorry," I apologized, retrieving a handkerchief from my purse slung over my shoulder, attempting to clean his shirt. He grabbed my wrist, forcefully pushing my hand away.

"Don't touch me. Are you blind? Seriously, why do you constantly find ways to irritate me? Look at what you've done now. Do you even realize how expensive this shirt is?" His anger was palpable.

His words felt like a dagger in my heart as if he was addressing a stranger. The pain was excruciating, but I held back my tears.

"I already said I'm sorry," I retorted, my patience wearing thin.

"Like an apology can magically restore the shirt you just ruined. You must have a special talent for ruining things," he snapped in frustration.

That was the last straw. I
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