CHAPTER 695. IN MY NEXT LIFE. Scars

Peter breathed slowly. She was so soft, so strangely small compared to him, that it felt as if she had been made to fit as a part of him, ready to latch on like a perfect gear at his side.

He couldn’t deny it—what was left of the day and the rest of that night was torturously difficult. Sometimes he could hear her crying softly in the darkness, but so faintly it was as if she genuinely hoped he wouldn’t notice the anguish that was torturing her.

But finally,